Meh Ayleidon
by JawsOfOblivion
Summary: Pente is a no talent Wood Elf with a phobia of... well, everything. So just how did she end up as the Hero of Kvatch? Can she really help save the world from the upcoming Oblivion crisis?
1. Chapter 1

Pente the Bosmer had just experienced one of the best days of her life.

It wasn't a spectacular day by most peoples' standards - it was just unusual for her to have a full day where everything simply went _well_. The weather was glorious, she had just moved into her beautiful new house without a hitch, and she had actually managed to bake a cake without burning it (or herself) for the first time in her life. This was what she considered the highlight of her beautiful, perfect day - the little Wood Elf was incredibly clumsy and disaster tended to follow her around almost constantly. But not today! _Yes,_ thought Pente, _today was special_. As she settled down to sleep, a contented smile crossed her face. Moving to Kvatch was, so far, proving to be the best decision she had ever made.

Well, until the Oblivion Gate opened and Daedra swarmed the town. That kind of put a dampener on things.

* * *

"Oh no, oh no, oh_ nooo_!" Pente wailed, scampering around her bedroom fitfully. "Help! Someone!" 

She had been awoken from her slumber by shrill screams of terror. Peeking from her window had revealed that the town was overrun with Daedra soldiers, and Pente was currently in the process of panicking ineffectually. As a result, she was still racing around in her nightdress when the Daedra broke down the door of her lovely new house. Pente froze and let out a strangled squeak of terror. This _could not be happening_. Not now. Not on her lovely, perfect first day in Kvatch!

An inhuman roar coming from downstairs convinced her that this _was_ happening, and that the best course of action would probably be to hide in the wardrobe.

Pente quickly concealed herself inside it, and covered herself with some of her dresses just in case anyone opened the wardrobe doors. Quivering, she lay in silence. She could hear the monsters tearing through her house, smashing and destroying her possessions as they went. For a moment, she lamented the loss of the mostly un-eaten cake - her _first one!_ - until she heard one of the invaders break into her room. Cake suddenly seemed a lot less important.

Clapping her hands over her mouth to suppress another terrified squeak, the Bosmer lay as still as she could. She peered through the crack in the wardrobe doors to try and get a glimpse of whatever was out there, but her vision was very limited. She could see something vaguely human-shaped kicking over the boxes of things she hadn't unpacked, but not much else - and she certainly wasn't going to risk moving a muscle to get a better look. Pente closed her eyes and prayed silently to the Nine for aid.

_Oh, please, PLEASE don't let them find me. Please please please? I'll always be good and I'll donate to beggars instead of pretending I can't see them and I'll pray at the temples EVERY DAY, I promise, and..._

_...Hold on. Why does it feel like I'm falling?_

Pente's entire world tilted as the wardrobe suddenly toppled over onto its side, shoved by one of the Daedra. The crashing thud it made thankfully masked Pente's cry of fear and pain as her face slammed hard against the wood. A metallic taste flooded her mouth, and she was confused for a split-second before realising that it was blood. Apparently, she had split her lip. Pente lay still for a while, nursing her aching face. Everything seemed to be quiet now, and it appeared as if the Daedra had left to go and search for victims elsewhere.

_But wait! What if they're hiding?_ Pente thought, fearfully._ They could be trying to draw me out!_

_But if they ARE trying to get me to come out, that means they know I'm here. Which means I should run._

_Any minute now. I can't just lie here forever! Although maybe I should just wait a little longer, just in case. Or... or... _

_...damn it all!_

Pente burst out of the wardrobe and scrambled to her feet. Frantically, she whirled around and scanned the room for enemies. Nothing was there. She was safe, for now. Pente began to quickly search through the scattered boxes that lined the floor along with her furniture that the invaders had destroyed. _Where is it? Oh, why did they have to make such a MESS?_

After less than a minute, she found what she was looking for - a battered old set of heavy armour that had belonged to her grandfather. It was more ornamental than practical; its only real value was as an antique. _Still better than nothing_, she figured, strapping it on as quickly as she could. It was slightly too big for her, was missing a helmet, and it moved awkwardly in most of the joints. _But still - better than nothing_. Pente took a deep breath.

_Alright. Here I go._

She sprinted out of her room and down the stairs, as fast as she could. The armour was hampering her ability to run, but there was no way she was going to turn around and change back into her nightdress! Bursting out of the front door, Pente took in the scene around her. Kvatch was unrecognisable from the way it had looked just a few hours ago. Buildings were on fire, dead bodies were strewn across the streets and thick, acrid smoke filled her nostrils. It was horrific, and Pente had to fight the urge to be sick. Movement across the street caught her eye - a gang of Clannfear daedra were chasing a small group of people fleeing towards the chapel of Akatosh. _Quickly!_ She urged herself, heart pounding. _While they're distracted! Go!_

Her armour clanking noisily, Pente fled down the streets towards the town's main gate. She miraculously made it all the way there without being noticed, and felt a small, guilty pang of gratitude for the people who had been running to the chapel - by acting as a distraction, they had likely saved her life. She threw all her weight against the gate to get it to open, and as it gave way, she fell flat on her face. Pente looked up, fresh blood dribbling from the cut on her lip.

There it was. The portal to Oblivion. Right in front of her. With a scamp emerging from it and running straight at her, baying for blood.

"YAAAAAGHHH!" Pente screamed, rolling over to escape the creature. It leaped right over her head and she used the opportunity to get up and start running again. The scamp gave chase, jabbering incoherently. Pente grabbed a sword from the body of a guard, whirled around, closed her eyes, blindly waved the sword in the scamp's general direction...

...and gaped in astonishment as she opened her eyes to see it dead in front of her, its head sliced off neatly. _I did it! By Azura, I did it! _

"YOU! You there! Over here, hurry!"

Pente turned around clumsily, the armour restricting her even more now that she was tired. There was a man - a Kvatch guard - waving at her from a ridge at the other side of the Oblivion gate. Relief threatened to overwhelm her as she rushed over to him, panting. "Oh, thank the Nine! Please, help! I--"

"I saw you kill that creature, soldier! Good job!" the guard boomed, slapping Pente on the back in what he clearly thought was a friendly manner. Pente gasped, slightly winded despite the protection her armour offered. "You have talent! And it looks like you've been in a fair few fights, too." His eyes settled on her bleeding lip, and Pente shook her head frantically.

"Oh, no no no! You see, I was trapped in a wardrobe and--"

"You even escaped the city all by yourself! I'm _very_ impressed!"

"No, the Daedra were chasing the others, and--"

"So _modest!_" the guard grinned, patting her on the head in a fairly patronising manner. "Look, do you think you could help us? Some of our men went into that thing," he said, pointing at the gate, "and never came back. I don't suppose you'd be willing to help find them?"

"I'm n-not, I mean, I don't think I can, um--"

"Come on, then! For Kvatch!" the guard cried, giving Pente another friendly slap on the back. Pente stumbled, tripped over, and fell through the Oblivion gate with a short scream.

* * *

There was silence for a moment. Jesan Rilian raised his hand. "Captain Matius?" 

"Yes, soldier?"

"Why did you send her into the gate? Alone? When fully-trained soldiers have been in there and not returned? She's just a little Wood Elf!"

Savlian Matius stared at the portal in front of him, a far-off look in his eyes. "Because she's not just any Wood Elf, of course. She's a _hero_. Look at the way she ran through that gate! Did you hear her scream of fury at the Daedric scum? Now _that_ is a warrior, soldier. Yes... a true hero..."

* * *

"Nyaaaaaaaaah!" 

Pente fell flat on her face for what seemed like the billionth time that day. She scrambled to her feet, trembling, and looked around.

_Ohhh, no no NO. This is NOT happening. Can I go home now?_

Oblivion was like nothing Pente could ever have imagined. Red-hot lava was seemingly everywhere. Corpses littered the barren landscape, twisted into distorted images of their living selves. The stench was unbelievable, an abhorrent mixture of sulphur, burning flesh and something that Pente couldn't quite place - hot metal, perhaps. It made her eyes stream, and she couldn't help but retch at the sights and smells that greeted her. Choking back a sob, she hugged herself fearfully.

_... I'm going to die. Well, isn't that just TYPICAL? I can't possibly have one good day, can-- OH!_

Pente shrieked in delight as a Kvatch guard came running towards her. He waved his arms in the air wildly, and appeared to be yelling something. "Hello! HELLO?" Pente cried, waving back at the man. "Oh, thank the Nine!" She strained her ears, trying to make out what he was saying.

..._Odd. Sounds like "get out of the way, you stupid bloody imbecile". How strange._

"MOVE, you blasted idiot!" the guard screamed, and shot an arrow over Pente's shoulder. Squealing in a most unladylike fashion, she dived to the ground and felt warm blood splatter over the back of her head. Peeking over her shoulder, she saw the body of a huge and _incredibly_ ugly Dremora, with an arrow now buried in its neck. Yet again, Pente fought back the urge to be sick.

Still crouching on the ground, she peered up at the guard. "Th-th-thankyou! Thankyou, oh, THANKYOU!" she grovelled, clumsily standing upright. "I can't... I mean, you... We have to g-get out of here!"

"Are you the reinforcements?!" gasped the guard, aghast. Pente wrung her hands, embarrassed.

"Well, maybe, kind of. I think so. I was just pushed through the gate by your Captain, but this is all a big misunderstanding and I don't know what to _do_," she wailed, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm just Pente. I can't fight or run fast or even bake a cake. Well, until yesterday. But the Daedra probably ate it, I mean, do they even _eat_ cake? I--"

"SHHH!" hissed the guard, with more than a hint of annoyance. "Stop babbling about cake and come with me! I've been told what to do to close this thing. We need to pick up some kind of stone," he explained, and pointed towards a huge tower across the lava from where they were. "It should be in there. Hurry, we have to move fast!"

"W-w-we?" moaned Pente, shaking violently.

"Yes." The guard strode off towards the tower. "Come, um... Pente, was it? I'm Ilend. Follow me, unless you'd rather stay here by yourself."

Pente ran to catch up. "W-wait! Don't leave meee!"

* * *

**Notes:** "Meh Ayleidon" is a traditional Bosmer poem, and the title translates to "One Thousand Benefits of Hiding". I figured it was appropriate! Also, Pente is pronounced "Pen-tay", not "Pent". More goofery to come soon! 


	2. Chapter 2: A true hero

"Mara save us!"

Ilend gritted his teeth as he slew yet another Dremora warrior. He had decided that Pente was quite possibly the most irritating person he had ever met. Every time an enemy came within sight, she would curl up into a ball and scream._Help! Ilend! Oh gods! Nine have mercy! By Julianos' beard! _

_Honestly_. It was incredibly irritating, and made any attempts at stealth utterly impossible. Ilend was beginning to wish that he had dunked the Bosmer into a lava pit while he'd had the chance. Maybe that would still be an option if it all got too much, he thought, dreamily. Yes. Something to look forward to.

"Th-thankyou, Ilend." Pente trotted up to him sheepishly, her armour clanking obnoxiously and startling him from his reverie. He let out a heavy sigh. Well, this _wasn't_ the right place for daydreams. He could fantasise about the Bosmer getting thrown off a cliff all he wanted when he got back to Tamriel, but right now they were scaling a tower filled with all the horrors of Oblivion.

Yes. Definitely _not_ the best place to be daydreaming.

"Alright, alright. We should be near the top of the tower by now... All this will soon be over," he said, a faint smile of relief crossing his face. Dagon take the Daedra, it was Pente that he was going to be glad to be rid of. He opened the door in front of him, cautiously, and peered around. When he was convinced that the room was safe, he beckoned for Pente to join him.

Pente followed obediently, then stopped in her tracks as she entered the room. "Oh, _my!_" she gasped, astonished. They had entered a large chamber, with a pillar of flame in the centre of the room. There, at the top of the column of fire, was a round, glowing stone, suspended in mid-air. Pente shielded her eyes against the eerie red glow, and turned to Ilend. "Is that it? The stone we need to get back?"

"Looks like it," he confirmed, grimly. "Quickly!" Together they ran towards the stone. Pente tried hard not to let her clumsiness get the better of her - one false step could lead to her plunging to a firey death in the lava below. The little Bosmer was suddenly stricken by a sickening sense of vertigo, and swayed slightly. _Uh-oh. Better s-stop. Just for a moment. I'll just take a quick look down. J-just to reassure myself, of course. I mean, we can't REALLY be as high up as I think we are, right?_

Pente looked down.

_O-oh. Maybe we ARE that high._ Pente let out a tiny whimper and froze a few steps away from the stone, unable to go any further.

Ilend glanced back at Pente and rolled his eyes. He had more important things to think about than the silly little Mer. Ah, well! He'd be free of her soon enough. He turned his gaze back to the Sigil Stone, leaned over to pluck it from the air, and--

That _bloody_ Bosmer was screaming again!

"LOOK OUT!"

Ilend whirled around, but it was too late. The last thing he ever saw was a clannfear's claws embedded in his chest, blood seeping from the wounds, looking so_unreal_, as everything went black.

* * *

"Ilend! ILEND!" Pente shrieked, covering her face in anguish. "No!" The clannfear turned towards her menacingly, and she backed away, horrified. "PLEASE! Ilend!" Her heart raced, fear consuming her completely. Her protector was dead, and she was next.

The clannfear pounced, and Pente dodged clumsily out of the way. She tugged at the half-forgotten sword that she had picked up outside the gate earlier, but found that it was apparently stuck in her belt. Somehow, after the day's events so far, she wasn't surprised. The clannfear was running at her again, and Pente took a deep, shuddering breath. _It's up to me! I have to do SOMETHING_, she thought, mustering up all the bravery that she had. Half-running, half-crawling, she scrambled towards Ilend's body and the Sigil Stone, still suspended above the flames. Adrenaline rushed through her as she jumped, soaring almost gracefully through the air, and grasped the stone...

Only to scream in terror as she began plummeting towards the lava pit below.

* * *

Captain Matius stared at the sky, pensively. How long had it been since the girl had entered the Oblivion Gate? Two hours? Three? It was becoming less and less likely that she was going to come back. _Well. Maybe she wasn't a hero, after all..._ Savlian scanned the horizon. There seemed to be someone heading towards them. He squinted, trying to focus on the far-away figure. _Big guy wearing armour... He looks pretty strong. Hey, maybe he's the kind of fellow who could help us!_

"Captain! Captain Matius!"

"Hmm?" he replied distractedly, turning to face the soldier who had spoken.

"There! Look at the Gate!"

Captain Matius stared in wonder. The flames around the portal were distorted, appearing to warp the city behind them. A great wrenching noise blasted from the Oblivion Gate, as if the structure itself was screaming in pain. The old guard captain couldn't help but take an involuntary step towards it, hope flaring suddenly within him. _Could it be...?_ He shielded his eyes as the light emanating from the Gate flared brightly for a moment, searing the sky, before abruptly dying. An un-natural hush descended on the ridge for a moment, as what had just happened sank in. It was gone! Closed!_Finished!_ And there, curled up in a ball in the wreckage, was the Bosmer girl. Savlian and his men roared with glee and disbelief, and ran to greet the shivering little figure.

Pente found herself being pulled upright by the Captain. "By the Nine Divines, you _did_ it!" he shouted, a huge grin splitting his face. "You closed it! You showed those Daedra bastards!"

The Bosmer trembled violently. This was all wrong! "N-n-no, it was Ilend! Ilend... He's d-dead! And I had to get the sigil thingy, b-but then I was falling and the lava was--"

"Ilend is dead?" Matius sighed, regretfully. That was bad news. But he couldn't get distracted now! There were possible survivors to worry about! "But you... you survived! You accomplished what a trained soldier couldn't. Please, will you help us free the city?"

"It w-wasn't like that! I was just scared and I ran--"

"Come on, quickly!" Matius clearly wasn't listening. "There may still be people alive in there!"

Pente watched the guards run back inside the Daedra-infested city, and her heart sank. She couldn't fight! She should just run now. Run far away, and never come back!

...But if there were people alive in there, didn't she owe them? She chewed her thumbnail guiltily, thinking of the little crowd of people who had distracted the Daedra and allowed her to escape. She really should at least see if she could help. And was she really much safer out here on her own than in there? Everyone knew that wild wolves roamed in the wilderness around Kvatch.

Sighing reluctantly, Pente ran towards the city entrance. "Wait! Wait for me, I'm coming too!"

* * *

By the time Pente caught up to the others, the guards were finishing off the last few Daedra. She sighed with relief. There was no need to fight. It was _over_. "I saw people heading for the chapel earlier!" she cried, pointing. "Maybe there are survivors!"

Savlian Matius sheathed his sword, satisfied that the area was safe - at least for now. "Alright. Let's go see. But brace yourself for the worst," he said, grimly. The little group made their way to the chapel and slowly opened the doors.

"Tierra!"

"Captain!" A young Redguard woman cried, rushing to meet them. "You're alive!"

"Yes, thank the Nine. It's all thanks to this young hero, here..." Matius began to relate the story. Pente sat down on the stone floor with a metallic thud. There _were_ survivors! Relief and happiness flooded through her, and she smiled giddily. They were alive! And she had _sort of_ helped save them, right? Kind of? Maybe she _was_ a hero, after all!

"Excuse me. Are you alright?"

Pente looked up, startled. A priest was standing over her, his face a picture of worried concern. "Oh... I'm f-fine. A little t-tired. That's all." She stood up hurriedly, assuming a more dignified posture.

The priest looked slightly disturbed. "I see. It's just that you, ahh..." He waved a hand in her direction and wrinkled his nose slightly. Pente looked down at herself, and was sickened to see how dirty and bloodstained her armour was. _Eww. EWW._

"Don't worry. It's, um... not... mine," she croaked, lamely. "The blood, I mean. Well, the armour isn't _exactly_ mine either, as you can probably tell seeing as it doesn't fit me and--"

"Yes," the priest interrupted, a somewhat bemused smile hovering around his mouth. "I see. Also, I must thank you for saving us, my friend. Everyone here is truly grateful. I'm Brother Martin."

"I'm Pente. And I didn't do anything, r-really," Pente stammered, awkwardly. She was prevented from explaining further by a mighty crash as the chapel doors were flung open. All eyes turned towards the chapel entrance and the figure that stood there.

Silhouetted in the doorway was a man. Not just _any_ man, but a huge, intimidating, powerful-looking Nord. He seemed to be around twenty, Pente guessed, and was extremely handsome. His long blond hair waved dramatically in the breeze, and his armour shimmered mystically as it reflected the candlelight. His arm muscles looked to be bigger than Pente's _head_. All things considered, he looked like the strongest warrior who ever lived. _A real hero_, thought Pente, star-struck. The man opened his mouth to speak.

"I seek the one known as Martin!" he bellowed. His voice was deep and resonant, perfectly matching his heroic appearance. The Nord scanned the room and puffed out his chest in a very impressive manner.

For a moment, nobody responded. Then an old woman pointed at the priest, irritably. "He's over there. Now, be quiet! I have a bloody headache. Honestly, shouting in a lady's ear like that, today's youth are _so rude_..."

The Nord sagged for a second, clearly dejected by this unenthusiastic reception. He crossed over to Martin and Pente in just a few strides, and towered menacingly over them. "You are the one I seek? Brother Martin of Kvatch?"

"Apparently so," Martin replied. He didn't seem intimidated in the slightest, just slightly confused. "Who are _you_?"

The man posed with his hands on his hips, and legs akimbo. "I am the son of a thunderstorm! Slayer of Daedra! Protector of beautiful women! Chosen by Emperor Uriel Septim himself! I..." He paused for dramatic effect. "...Am Styrbrand, the Unbelievably Mighty!" He stood and stared piercingly into the distance, looking exceedingly heroic. Pente began clapping enthusiastically.

"Oh. That's nice," Brother Martin muttered, dismissively. "So, why did you wish to speak with me?"

Styrbrand looked very put out, and pouted slightly. He soon recovered. "I have news! Astonishing news!" he cried, putting a hand on Martin's shoulder. "Please listen. There is no easy way to tell you this, and we have very little time... I'm afraid I must be blunt. You, Martin, are the illegitimate son of the late Emperor Uriel Septim. Therefore, due to his recent murder... You are the new heir to the Septim throne. Please, take some time to adjust. I understand that it must be very difficult to come to terms with this, especially at such a turbulent time."

There was a short, tension-filled pause, and Pente gaped at the two men, thrilled. _By Azura! This is most exciting! _

"Illegitimate son? Did you just call me a _bastard_?" Martin gasped, affronted. He pushed the Nord's hand from his shoulder, and took a step back.

"What? No! Well, yes. But not like that! Please," Styrbrand replied, flustered, "you have to come to Weynon Priory. There we will meet a man called Jauffre, you can claim the Amulet of Kings, and we'll then depart for... uh... adventures. And, um... stuff. All very heroic. I was chosen by your father, you see. He saw me in his _dreams_," he added, proudly.

"I... see," Martin hesitantly said. "This is all very sudden, but... Well, I... I suppose you have no reason to lie. And, um... well, if you're the man of the emperor's _dreams_ and all..." The huge Nord made a strangled noise at this point. Pente wondered if it was actually _possible_ to die of embarrassment. "Very well," Martin continued. "I shall go and meet this 'Jauffre', and see if your story is true. It's not as though I have anything to stay here for," he muttered, glancing at the burning rubble around him.

"Excellent!" Styrbrand beamed, clapping his hands together heavily. "We leave immediately!" The huge Nord looked utterly thrilled. Adventure, at last! It was time to fulfil his destiny!

"I said _I'd_ go. Not _we_," replied Martin. "And I'll choose my own travelling partner. Thankyou, anyway." He turned to Pente, whose mouth fell open in horrified realisation. "Would you accompany me? I must confess, I would feel much safer with the Hero of Kvatch by my side than someone I don't even know."

"Buh wuh, himmaah, m-mggh?" Pente gabbled. She shook her head violently, pointing at Styrbrand. "I m-mean, me? But look at h-him! He's massive and muscley and heroic and..."

"...And big," supplied Styrbrand. "Very big. Good at protecting potential emperors. Marked by destiny and all that."

"While I can't argue with that, I'd really rather place my faith in someone with experience," Martin said, firmly. He took Pente's arm and headed towards the chapel doors. "Farewell, Styrbrand. I shall be sure to tell your friend Jauffre that you delivered your message."

Styrbrand the Unbelievably Mighty stared open-mouthed as the priest and the Wood Elf faded from sight. His mouth opened and closed silently, and he looked completely dazed. "But..." he mumbled, miserably. "My destiny..."

"Hey! You! The big guy!" an Orc woman shouted, crossly. "We need some help with finding firewood! Don't just sit there, get on with it!"

The Nord looked down at his feet, unhappily. "But he saw me in his _dreams_," Styrbrand muttered, heading off to go and uproot some trees.


	3. Chapter 3: Superhuman Battle Monk

"Pente, would you like to rest?"

Martin and Pente had been travelling towards Weynon Priory for an hour, and the Wood Elf was already gasping with fatigue. The weight of her armour was seriously causing her problems now, and she nodded gratefully in response to Martin's offer. "If it's not too much t-trouble," she panted, flopping to the ground. Laying back in the grass, Pente looked up at the sky. Judging by the height of the sun, it seemed to be around midday. She wiped sweat from her brow, exhausted. At least now she could rest a little. _Aww, he's so kind to consider my feelings like that! And look at his cute little worried face!_

Martin watched her with concern. She really was very strange, even for a Bosmer. Her attire puzzled him - usually, Wood Elves tended to use lighter, more supple armour, and the only weapon she seemed to have on her was an old battered sword that he hadn't seen her use yet. What's more, he couldn't understand why she continued to wear the heavy metal garments while the sun was shining so brightly - surely she was getting roasted alive in there?

"Maybe you should take that off?"

"Wh-what?" Pente spluttered, blushing. She had just been in the middle of a rather torrid daydream about Martin showing her _just_ how grateful he was for her "heroism", and his words had come at a rather appropriate moment. _Eep._

"Your armour. You look very flushed, are you alright? You are wearing something under it, I assume?"

"O-oh! Of course!" Pente replied, brightly. Yes, getting rid of the ill-fitting armour would make her feel much better!

It was only as she began to remove the heavy metal cuirass that she remembered what she _did_ have on underneath the armour. Pente groaned in mortified agony as she looked down at her slightly grubby green nightdress. Her favourite one, with the little unicorns embroidered around the hem.

_Why?_ She thought, mourning the loss of the last of her dignity. The Bosmer closed her eyes and bore the brunt of Martin's snickering in what she hoped was a very ladylike and aloof manner. _Rise above it. Think of pretty, soothing things, like butterflies or unicor-- ARGH! _

"Don't say a _word_," she scowled, pointing a shaking finger at the priest, who was struggling to regain his composure. "Not _one._"

* * *

Weynon Priory was now clearly visible on the horizon. Pente wasn't really sure how she felt about that. Of course, finding out if Martin really _was_ the son of the late Emperor would be terribly exciting, but she also knew that arriving at the Priory would possibly mean the end of her journey. This was, in Pente's eyes, a _Very Bad Thing_. She was really enjoying her little adventure now that the danger had apparently passed, and if it ended before it even started properly, then... _well_. 

An image of Styrbrand's horrified face floated through her mind. No, she didn't want to end up like him, thankyou. Besides, when her journey was finished, where was she supposed to go? Her house was completely uninhabitable, and there was absolutely no way that Pente was going back to live with her parents.

Ever.

Not even if she had to paint herself green and live with goblins.

_Hey, maybe that's not such a bad idea if all of this doesn't work out. Goblin caves wouldn't make good targets for Daedra attacks, would they...? Hmm. Do goblins like cake?_

"Pente!"

"Hmm?" Pente replied, blinking away her daydream. "Sorry, what?"

Martin's brow was furrowed with worry. "Don't you hear that?" he asked, half-whispering. Pente listened carefully.

Were those screams? _O-oh no. Not again. Please?_

"I d-don't, um..." she started, nervously. "Maybe it's a... a mudcrab? They can get pretty noisy around, um, mating season." Pente nodded, knowledgeably.

The screams were getting closer. _"PLEASE! Someone, help!"_

"That... could be a mudcrab mating call, right?"

Martin raised an eyebrow at Pente, before running towards Weynon Priory. Pente followed closely behind, struggling to tug her sword from her belt. _I really have to find a sword that won't get STUCK,_ she thought, irritably. _I could do with some new, non-mudcrab-related excuses for not fighting, too. Ugh._

As they ran up the path to the priory, the source of the screams was revealed. A Dunmer male was fleeing down the path towards them, closely followed by two figures wearing rather _unique_ armour. Pente shook uncontrollably, the sword wobbling unsteadily in her hand - the mysterious attackers looked like Dremora. Memories of the Oblivion Gate at Kvatch floated through her mind, and she whimpered pitifully.

Thankfully, there was no need for Pente to fight. Without so much as breaking a sweat, Martin muttered a spell and shot icicles from his fingertips, which struck the attackers with eerie accuracy. He even seemed surprised at himself as the two figures fell to the ground. Pente stared, her eyes shining. Apparently, the priest was a lot tougher than he looked.

The Dark Elf who had been running away from the priory grasped Martin's arm, gratefully. "Thankyou!" he gasped, clearly out of breath. "But hurry, there were others! They--"

"Eronor!" a voice called. Everyone turned to see an elderly Breton monk running out of one of the buildings. Pente thought he would have looked rather ordinary if it wasn't for the bloodstains smeared on his robes. Oh, and that sword he was carrying, too. _Maybe he's some kind of superhuman battle-monk! _Pente thought, excitedly. _Wow!_

"Eronor, who is..." The Breton trailed off, staring at Martin. "Ah, you must be... but... who...? Where is Styrbrand?" He looked thoroughly confused. Pente sympathised completely.

"Um, well... I am Brother Martin. Styrbrand stayed in Kvatch after delivering his message," Martin explained hurriedly, glancing at Pente. "Um, and this is Pente. She's been protecting me in his place. What's going _on_? Who are these people?"

The Breton started running towards the main priory building, motioning for them to follow. "The Mythic Dawn! Quickly, they must be looking for the Amulet of Kings!"

Pente followed Martin and the monk, feeling more confused than ever. _Mythic Dawn? What kind of stupid, girly name is THAT?_

* * *

The Breton was rummaging through a chest of drawers in the priory, getting more anxious by the second. He slammed the drawers shut and sank to the ground. "NO! The Amulet... It's gone!" he wailed, looking utterly distraught. He looked like he could burst into tears at any moment. Pente reached out and patted the monk's arm. 

"Don't worry, I've been having a really bad day, too." She paused. "Although, I didn't have any items of immense power and significance stolen from me by the forces of evil, of course. Just a cake. It was a really nice one, though."

"_Pente_," Martin interrupted, trying not to smile. He turned to the Breton. "Would you happen to be Jauffre?"

The monk was sniffling pathetically. "Yes. Grandmaster of the Blades. And now I've failed you! Failed in my duty to the Septim heir!" Jauffre covered his eyes, dramatically.

"About that," Martin coughed. "I don't think I can _be_ the heir. It's absurd."

"How can you say that?" Jauffre gasped. "You're the very image of your father!"

There was a short, very tense pause. Being compared to a wrinkled old slug like Uriel Septim VII was _not_ the most flattering of things to hear.

"H-how about we talk about this later?" Pente squeaked, nervously. "Can we get some sleep? I'm kind of exhausted."

Jauffre stood up, slowly. "Yes, of course. It's not safe here, but there is an inn in Chorrol we could use. Come, we'll take the horses from the stable."

* * *

_So tired._

Pente sleepily closed the door to her room. This wasn't the nicest inn she had ever stayed at - the room was extremely small, it kind of smelled, and there were mysterious stains on the bedsheets that she didn't really want to contemplate. However, at the moment, the little Bosmer just _didn't care_. She washed the blood and grime from the day's events off her skin, and surveyed her reflection in the mirror. She looked terrible. There was a huge, ugly bruise blossoming under the cut on her lip, her eyes were bloodshot, and her short brown hair was tangled into a complete mess. "Ugh," Pente muttered to herself. "I look like someone who's been to Oblivion and back."

...Oh, wait.

Pente decided that she really couldn't be bothered to try and fix her appearance just now. She practically crawled over to the bed and curled up under the bedcovers. Closing her eyes blissfully, Pente happily settled down to sleep._ So tired. Bed... so fluffy..._

* * *

"You sleep very well... for a _murderer_." 

Pente yelped, shocked into wakefulness by the voice. Eyes darting around the room fearfully, she pulled the bedsheets up to her face. _Divines save me please anyone help there's someone in my room and he thinks I'm a murderer and OH NO WHAT IF IT'S THE MYTHIC DAWN--_

The man took a step forward from the shadows, revealing himself. He was tall and lithe, possibly an Imperial, and he wore a black hooded cloak and cowl. Pente trembled violently, a sense of dread washing over her. His clothing didn't show him to be one of the Mythic Dawn, but she still found him to be utterly terrifying. The man looked like the living embodiment of death.

"That's good..." he hissed, his lips parting in a small sneering smile. He seemed to be revelling in her fear, almost as though it fortified him in some way. He took another step towards her, slowly, savouring the moment.

"N-no!" Pente squealed. "Don't! I'm n-not a murderer!" She clutched the sheets more tightly to her, shaking violently. What had she done to deserve _this_? "Please! I'd n-never hurt anyone!"

The man paused, and cocked his head slightly. "I beg your pardon?" His voice, which previously sounded as dark and menacing as his appearance, suddenly contained a hint of confusion.

"I'm not a murderer. Haven't done anything. I'm an a-all around wimp, really. A coward. No th-threat to anyone. I get beaten up by mudcrabs h-half the time. In fact, once I was on a walk in the West Weald and there was a _really_ vicious deer, and--"

"Wait, wait." The man lifted a hand and pressed it to his forehead, his face displaying an expression of pain and annoyance. He pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket and consulted it. "Miss Antoinetta Marie?"

Pente shook her head vigorously. "N-no. Pente." She paused for a moment. "Pleased to meet you," she lied.

"BLAST!" The robed man swore, grinding his teeth in frustration. "This is the second time this month! What in Oblivion is Ungolim _doing_? I'd _swear_ that he was doing this on purpose, trying to make me look like a..." he faltered, his gaze falling back on the little Bosmer currently cowering in her bed. He appeared to have forgotten she was even there.

"S-sorry?" Pente offered, teeth chattering. She wasn't exactly sure what she was sorry _for_, but she absolutely didn't want to make the man even more mad.

He shook his head, obviously irritated. "No, no. My mistake." The robed figure's voice had returned to its initial velvety tones, all traces of anger gone. He opened the door to leave. "Farewell, then. Walk always in the shadow of Sithis, Bosmer. Or... or whatever it is that you do." He left, closing the door quietly behind him.

Pente lay awake, whimpering.


	4. Chapter 4: Pente the Usurper

Jauffre smiled contentedly as he took a bite of his breakfast. Despite the slight squalor of the inn, it was really a very nice day. It was warm without being oppressive, birds were singing outside, and the atmosphere was, well... Generally very pleasant. Yes, Jauffre was in a very good mood. The monk had spoken with Martin after Pente had gone to sleep, and he _thought_ that he might have the younger man convinced of his parentage.

Well, Martin's exact words had been _"If I admit that there's a POSSIBILITY, will you let me sleep?"._ It was a start, though. Jauffre took another mouthful of food, and chewed on it thoughtfully as he watched the priest. He would just have to keep pressing the issue on the way to Cloud Ruler Temple, that was all. Hearing a small noise, Jauffre looked towards the stairs of the inn, and promptly choked.

"By the NINE!"

"Shut up," replied Pente, groggily making her way down the stairs. "Just shut up."

"You look like you haven't slept at all! Are you sure you're alright?" Martin asked, looking startled. He had a point. The mer was pale and drawn, with dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was a spectacular mess that stuck out at all angles.

"Bad dreams," Pente muttered, as if it explained everything.

Martin nodded, wisely choosing not to ask any questions.

"Now that everyone is awake, we should get moving." Jauffre stood up, brushing crumbs from his robes. "It isn't safe to stay in one place in our current situation. We need to get to Cloud Ruler Temple as soon as possible in order to ensure our safety."

"Cloud Ruler Temple?" Pente asked. _That_ sounded promising. Clouds were fluffy and pretty and non-threatening, after all. Kind of like huge airborne pillows that she could sleep on, far out of the reach of grumpy Imperial assassins and murderous Daedric cults! Perfect.

"It's a fortress belonging to the Blades," Jauffre explained, helpfully. "Located near Bruma, so it will be a very long trip. At least we have horses to aid us on our journey."

Pente sighed, disappointed. That sounded considerably _less_ comfortable. But, as Jauffre had said, at least they had horses to carry them! It would be nice to just relax while riding the horse. No effort involved. Maybe she could even catch up on some sleep.

* * *

_I HATE horses. Stupid, smelly creatures. And so uncomfortable. Just how is this any better than walking?!_

Pente clung to her horse, miserably. Would this never end? Every time it sped up to more than a leisurely walk, the horse's pounding hooves sent painful shocks through her bruised body. Combined with her lack of sleep and the steadily decreasing temperature as they got closer to their destination, she felt utterly terrible. Her adventures yesterday had been harrowing and life-threatening, but least Oblivion was _warm_.

"Almost there!" Jauffre called, looking over his shoulder at the Bosmer. "Just a little further up the mountain." This was _not_ as reassuring as Jauffre seemed to think it was. A muffled groan of dismay escaped Pente's lips, and she closed her eyes in horror. It was beginning to _snow_.

By the time the trio reached Cloud Ruler Temple, it had escalated into a full-scale blizzard. As the gates opened to allow them access, Pente almost wept with gratitude. Finally, she could come in from the cold, get some rest, maybe some food... Nice, _normal_ things. Bliss! She spent a few minutes gazing in front of her, glassy-eyed, as she contemplated returning to a more normal life. It was going to be _wonderful._

Martin's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Not much of a speech, was it?"

Pente yelped, blinking rapidly. "Huh? Speech?"

_Oops_. The Imperial looked quite offended. _Quickly! Damage control!_ "U-uh, I mean, um, it seemed fine to me!" Pente continued, fiddling nervously with her hair. "Very inspiring. Profound. Definitely made _me_ want to fight harder for you, o-of course. Very... Speechy. Oh, look, it's Jauffre!" Pente gabbled, suddenly _incredibly_ glad to see the Breton approaching her.

"Yes, very good," Jauffre said, offering a weak smile in response. "Pente, I have a proposal for you."

_What? A PROPOSAL? Agh! Eww! _

Jauffre stared at the Bosmer, one eyebrow raised. He couldn't fathom why she looked so horrified, all of a sudden. "Would you do us the honour of--"

"NO! I m-mean, I'm f-flattered, obviously, b-but..."

"Pardon?" Jauffre asked, clearly confused. Pente suddenly realised that there was some kind of major misunderstanding going on. Cursing silently, she vowed that _one_ day she would actually learn to listen to people. One day.

"Carry on," she squeaked, plastering a huge, fake smile on her face.

Jauffre cleared his throat. "As I was saying... Would you do us the honour of becoming one of the Blades? It would certainly be good for morale to have the Hero of Kvatch amongst our ranks. You would, of course, be given your own weapon and armour as a gesture of gratitude. You would also be allowed the use of the barracks, library, kitchen..."

"Yes! Yes, please!" Pente interrupted, hopping a little on the spot in her excitement._Beds? Food? Where do I sign?_

Beaming happily, Jauffre patted Pente's shoulder. "Excellent news! Come, then. I must give you details of your next mission."

_Wait. Mission? Already?_

_Oh, for the love of Dibella!_

* * *

"Stupid Jauffre. Stupid evil cults. Stupid _snow_." Pente growled, petulantly stamping her way through the streets of Bruma. This was ridiculous! In what twisted world did this make sense?!

Jauffre had given her the details of her mission, as promised. Pente had been ordered to go all the way to the Imperial City and find another Blade there, by the name of Baurus. That was it. No further instructions, no hints at what to expect, just _"go and find Baurus". _ Apparently, he would tell her the rest.

Vague, completely non-specific instructions? _Wonderful!_

"Balding, bastard old son of a _woodcutter,_" Pente muttered, murderously. She was so mad that she felt as though she could take on the entire ranks of the Mythic Dawn single-handed, if she just imagined them all as having Jauffre's face.

Well. If she wasn't so hideously and hinderingly weak, of course. But the _thought_ was what mattered, wasn't it?

Sighing unhappily, Pente decided that she needed to be cheered up. Preferably with copious amounts of comfort-food. Stopping outside a small building that was signposted as "Olav's Tap and Tack", she decided that it looked fairly promising.

She stepped into the warmth of the inn and smiled, happily. Much better. Bruma was _far_ too cold, and she briefly wondered how the locals could stand it. Sitting down at the bar, her temporary boost in mood faded. It was dark, dingy, and did _not_ look like the kind of place that would serve cake. Pente coughed, nervously. "U-um... Just a small glass of water, please."

The Nord behind the bar nodded, and poured Pente a glass. As she sipped at it, he rolled his eyes heavily. _Water. HONESTLY. _

"DESTINY!"

Pente choked on her drink, surprised by the sudden shout coming from the other side of the inn. Spluttering, she turned to see what was going on. A large, muscular Nord was ranting about something, waving his hands in the air. He'd clearly been drinking quite heavily. _A drunken Nord? How... unusual. _Pente giggled to herself, and was about to turn away when the Nord began shouting again.

"It was supposed to be my destiny! MINE! Strongest in Cyrodiil... Raised for it... Trained all my life, and THEN! Ush... Oos... USURPED!" The Nord banged his fist on the table. "Usurped by a Wood Elf WENCH!"

Pente's eyes widened, and her mouth fell open. _Styrbrand?_

It _was_ Styrbrand, and he sniffled loudly as he swigged more ale. "I'm supposed t' be a HERO," he slurred, addressing the Dunmer next to him. "A hero. Emperor said so. Saw it in th' stars or somefin'."

"Wonderful," snarled the Dunmer, edging his seat further away. "Now leave me alone before I send you to be _reunited_ with the fetching Emperor."

Styrbrand turned back to his tankard and stared at it, gloomily. "Hero. Destiny," he mumbled, before dissolving into loud sobs.

Pente chewed her thumbnail anxiously. _Oh dear. I really should go and say something..._ She approached the crying Nord, and sat down next to him. Gently, she put a hand on his arm. "S-Styrbrand?"

Styrbrand sobbed harder, his head in his hands. "An' now the only person who'll talk t' me is a-an ugly _Bosmer_. Well, this is just... Just..." He raised his head slowly, disbelievingly. "It's YOU!"

"Ugly?" gasped Pente, hurt.

"YOU!" Styrbrand roared. "USURPER!" Pente flinched as Styrbrand got to his feet, trembling with rage. "What are YOU doing here?!"

"I'm helping Brother Martin and J-Jauffre!" Pente squeaked, backing away. She glanced around the tavern for aid, but everyone steadfastly ignored her pleading gaze. Well, everyone except the Dunmer, but he seemed to be enjoying the spectacle going on in front of him. _Typical._

"And you..." Styrbrand looked her up and down, an aghast look on his face. "You've joined the Blades!"

Pente glanced down at her new armour. "O-oh, right. Yes. Well, only to get some armour. I needed some that was lighter than what I had, especially as that nightdress was just useless and embarrassing, and they happened to have something that would fit me but then I could only use it if I became a Blade because Jauffre wanted--"

Styrbrand sat back down, no longer looking at Pente. "The Blades. I wanted to be a Blade since I was five years old. You... how... one of the _Blades_..."

Pente decided that now was probably a good time to leave. "I'll put in a good word for you with Jauffre," she promised, before hurrying out of Olav's Tap and Tack as quickly as she could.

* * *

**Notes:** Thankyou to Pheonicia for inspiring "balding bastard son of a woodcutter". And for generally being awesome. XD 


	5. Chapter 5: Rotmeth, Anyone?

Baurus was annoyed - the Hero of Kvatch was late.

Ordinarily, this would not have bothered him very much at all. The Redguard was generally very easy-going, and to be honest, he wasn't exactly the most punctual of people himself. But, considering the current situation, Baurus did_ not _ want to be kept waiting. It was just a _tad_ stressful when you were sitting in an almost-deserted tavern, knowing that there was currently an assassin watching your every move.

Baurus glanced as subtly as he could at the man that he suspected was planning on killing him. Yes, he was definitely being watched - the Breton man was being almost _obvious _ about it. He kept staring at Baurus, then quickly turning his head away when he thought he had been spotted. The Redguard seethed inwardly at the thought that amateurs like this had managed to kill the Emperor right before his eyes.

Suddenly, the tavern doors flew open, revealing a Wood Elf girl. Baurus watched her, cautiously. She had a worried, half-distracted look on her face, and had that flushed, tired look of someone who had been travelling for a considerable time. The mer was scanning the room as though looking for someone.

_Wait,_ Baurus thought, realisation dawning on him. _There's no way that she... But... No. I was expecting the Nord!_

Catching the Bosmer's eye, Baurus motioned her over to him with a brief nod of his head. _Please,_ he silently pleaded. _Be subtle._ He avoided any eye contact as the girl smiled brightly and sat down on a chair next to him.

"Oh, hello! You must be Baur--"

"SHHH!" Baurus hissed, glancing around at the man that had been watching him. Pointedly looking away from the Bosmer as he spoke, he whispered further instructions. "Be quiet. You don't know me. When I get up, the guy sitting by the window will follow. Then _you_ should follow _him_. Remember, be _quiet_," he stressed. Composing himself, Baurus stood upright and headed for the tavern cellar.

"Humph." Pente pouted slightly. _Well, it's nice to meet you too,_ she thought, sulkily. She watched as the man that Baurus had indicated got up and also headed towards the basement. Waiting for a few seconds to make sure that the man was completely out of sight, Pente got to her feet.

_Well! That must be my cue!_

* * *

Pente opened the cellar doors as quietly as she could. Baurus _had _told her to be silent, after all. She put a hand to her mouth to stifle the squeak of shock prompted by what she saw - the unknown man was standing halfway down the steps, almost close enough for her to touch, with his sword drawn. Thankfully, his back was to her. As Pente watched, he raised one arm and conjured himself some armour. 

_Gosh, that looks familiar. Almost like those Mythic Dawn people._

_Nine save me!_

"AHH! _No!_" Pente shrieked, instinctively flinging herself at the assassin's back. Knocking him off-balance, they tumbled down the stairs together and landed at Baurus' feet. Pente leaped up and hurriedly stepped back, staring down at the crumpled figure on the floor in front of her. The assassin was dead, his head tilted at an impossible, sickening angle. Pente retched weakly, and looked away. _Horrible._

Baurus laid a hand on the shaking Bosmer's shoulder. "You alright? That must have hurt." No answer. Baurus guessed that she was still breathless from the fall. "Good thing he took most of the punishment, huh? I _am _ pleased to meet you, by the way. You're the Hero of Kvatch, right?"

"N-no," Pente muttered, staring fixedly ahead of her in an effort to avoid looking at the assassin's corpse. "Wait, yes. Sort of, I suppose. And y-you're Baurus?"

"Right." He took his hand from her shoulder, noting that she seemed to have regained some of her composure. "What happened to the Nord?" he asked, kneeling down to search the body of the assassin.

"Styrbrand? He, um..." Pente trailed off, remembering the scene in Olav's Tap and Tack. "He had to deal with something. What's that?"

Baurus was holding a book, taken from the dead Mythic Dawn agent. He looked at it briefly. "_Commentaries on the_... Something unpronounceable," he read. "Here." He passed the book to Pente, who flipped it open.

"_Mysterium Xarxes_?" she asked, flicking through the pages. Baurus shrugged. Pente read further. "This thing is so... Well... Listen! '_Mankar Camoran was once like you, asleep, unwise, protonymic...' _ I'm so flattered." She closed the book and shoved it unceremoniously into her bag. "It's nonsense! He must have been doing a _lot_ of Skooma to write something like this."

Baurus grinned. "Makes no sense to me, either. I do know someone who might be able to find out more about it, though. Her name's Tar-Meena, at the Arcane University. She knows a lot about Daedric cults and books and, uh... stuff. Why don't you go check it out?"

"Oh... Of course!" Pente replied. She made as if to leave, but then turned back, hesitantly. "U-uh... I don't suppose that you'd come with me, would you?" she asked, looking nervous. "You see, uhm... There are people here that I'd rather not run into if I'm on my own, that's all. I could really do w-with someone to stay with me, just in case. Please?"

Curious, Baurus raised an eyebrow. He couldn't think why an accomplished warrior like the Hero of Kvatch would be scared of _anyone _ in the city, but Pente certainly seemed frightened. She looked haunted, as though expecting someone to jump out at her from the shadows, and she was staring at him so hopefully that he found it impossible to resist. "Sure. Come on, let's hurry," he sighed. The Redguard hoped that she wasn't in trouble with the Legion or anything - he was an accomplished fighter, but didn't think he could take on an entire army, not even with Pente's help.

Pente visibly relaxed, relief evident on her face. _Thank the Nine._ Now if she _did_ happen to see anyone she would rather avoid, the solution would simply be to hide behind Baurus. Perfect! She beamed gratefully at the Redguard, following him out of the cellar. Perhaps this mission wasn't going to be as bad as she had first thought!

* * *

"So, we need two more. What's the new one like? The same kind of thing as before?" Baurus asked. 

Tar-Meena had been most helpful. As well as giving them Volume Two of the Commentaries, she had explained that there were, apparently, a total of four books that would make up the full set. Collecting all four volumes would supposedly allow the reader to discover the secrets of the Mythic Dawn cult. _Hmmm._ Pente was becoming more and more convinced that this "Path of Dawn" nonsense had _something _ to do with ingesting as many mind-altering substances as possible.

"Yes," she replied, cramming the book into her bag. "Absolutely nothing useful - or, um, coherent - at all."

"You're in no danger of being converted, then?" Baurus laughed. "Great. I guess we should go and ask around about the others at the First Edition, huh? Unless you want to eat before we go and do that. Are you hungry?"

Pente stared almost disbelievingly at the Redguard. After being constantly on the move for the last couple of days, snatching rests and meals only occasionally, it seemed to be quite a novelty to actually be _asked_ if she wanted to do something. The Bosmer had forgotten just how nice a feeling that was.

"Uh, Pente?"

"Oh!" She had been staring. _Oops._ "Yes. Please. If it's not too much trouble."

Yes, this mission was_ definitely_ turning out to be better than expected. Pente couldn't even remember why she had been worried at all.

* * *

To Pente's ravenous eyes, the Feed Bag was like a little slice of pure bliss. She almost_ squirmed_ with excitement as she contemplated all the food. _Ooh, apples. Sweetrolls. Chocolates. Cake. Sweet, delicious cake._ Pente closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. _Oh, mother Mara, I thank you for this beautiful strawberry..._

Baurus watched the mer as she scurried around, excitedly picking out the food. _She's definitely a strange one,_ he thought, as she almost wept over a large slice of chocolate cake. All Bosmer seemed odd in his eyes, of course, but Pente seemed to be crazy in her own_ special_ way. Not that this was exactly a bad thing - he found her quirkiness to be very intriguing. Baurus wondered briefly about what her fighting style must be like. Feral and savage, he guessed, judging by the way she had thrown herself at that assassin earlier on. And that warcry of hers! It sounded almost like a scream. Yes. She was most definitely an odd one.

"Penny? _Penny?!_"

Baurus' thoughts and Pente's cavorting were interrupted by a loud, shrill voice. Pente froze, every muscle in her body rigid with fear.

_No._

_It can't be. Please. Anything but this..._

_Quickly! For Stendarr's sake, don't let her see you eating bloody STRAWBERRIES!_

The voice belonged to another female Bosmer, who swept across the room towards Pente. "Penny? My little Pente?"

_Oh, no._ Pente gulped, her mouth as dry as sand.

"Hello, mother."

"_Penny, _you didn't write!" wailed the older mer. She grabbed Pente by the shoulders and drew her close, into an overenthusiastic hug. "When I heard that Kvatch had been destroyed, I didn't know _what _to think!"

"I haven't really h-had time t--"

"Don't stammer, dear. It's very unbecoming. Use your grown-up voice." Pente's mother turned to Baurus, her mouth set into a thin, disapproving line. "And is this your latest boyfriend? I suppose that _he's_ the reason that you had no time to write to your poor mother? Your loving mother, who has been out of her _mind_ with worry about you?"

"N-no!" Pente cried, mortified. "This is Baurus. We're, uh..."

"Colleagues?" Baurus suggested, helpfully.

"Yes." Pente flashed him with a grateful smile. "Baurus, this is my mother, Aranwen."

"Pleased to meet you," Baurus said. Aranwen responded with another tight, disapproving half-smile before turning back to her daughter.

"You _must_ come home with me for a chat, Penny. Just to catch up." Aranwen clutched Pente's arm and began dragging her from the shop. "We shouldn't stay here, we can eat at home. They sell _all_ sorts of filth here," she whispered. "Like tomatoes. For_ eating._"

Baurus blinked and followed the two mer. He was beginning to understand where Pente might have inherited her strangeness from.

* * *

"Rotmeth?" 

Baurus was being offered a rather pungent-smelling beverage by Pente's mother. He didn't need Pente's frantic head-shaking and kicks under the table to tell him that he _really _ didn't want any of it. "No, thanks. I just had lunch. Thankyou, though."

Aranwen pursed her lips. "Ah, of course. A _plant-eater_." The disapproval was clear in her voice. She turned to face her daughter. "So, you two are in some kind of army...? Not what I expected of you, Penny. Not at _all_. Why, do you remember when you were little and got attacked by that mudcrab? You wouldn't set foot out of the house for weeks--"

"Mother. _Please_," Pente interrupted, desperately.

Rolling her eyes dismissively, Aranwen continued. "And I trust that you're disposing of your enemies in accordance with the Green Pact? Such a good girl!"

Pente paled, looking visibly sick. "_Mother._"

"I don't get it," Baurus whispered.

"You don't _want_ to," Pente muttered, darkly.

"What are you two whispering about?" Aranwen asked. "They must not teach you manners in this army you're in. I'm _very_ concerned, you know, I _do_ worry about you..."

"Baurus was, um, just saying that we were late. For, u-um, an appointment. A really important one," Pente blurted, standing up quickly. "Official secret b-business, you know. We really have to go."

Baurus got to his feet, nodding. "Right. Sorry for dragging your daughter away so quickly."

Aranwen waved them out of the room, irritably. "Fine, fine. No time for your old mother. Make sure you write, Penny, dear!"

"I will!" Pente squeaked, practically running from the house.

* * *

As they walked through the Market District, Baurus grinned. "_Penny_?" 

"Shut up." Pente was scowling ferociously. Her face was bright red from a mixture of fury and embarrassment.

"I don't know why you're so mad. Penny isn't the most offensive nickname there is."

The mer only scowled more fiercely. "I _hate_ it."

"Hey, I used to get called Baury-bear by _my_ parents. Much worse."

Pente paused. "...Baury-bear?"

"Uh-huh."

"It suits you. Did your mother ever call you that while offering your friends delicacies made from old, rotten meat?"

"Oh, all the time." Baurus smiled more widely as Pente's mouth twitched.

"Very funny." She made a face. "She's not too bad, I suppose. Just a little, uh, fanatical about some things. She used to terrify my friends with stories about how Y'ffre would smite them for their plant-eating, heathen ways."

"You don't believe in all that Green Pact stuff, then?" Baurus asked. He knew very little about it, to be honest, but if Pente's mother was a typical follower of it all... _Scary_.

"Not so much. I have too much of a sweet tooth anyways, even if I _did._" Pente rolled her eyes. "My mother would rather die than pick an apple to stop herself starving, though. And if she _was_ ever driven to kill someone, she'd be a _lot_ more likely to eat their corpse than me."

"What?" Baurus choked, staring at her incredulously.

"_Don't_," Pente grumbled, the scowl returning to her face.

Baurus was suddenly very, very glad that they hadn't stayed for dinner.

* * *

**Notes:** For those who aren't aware - the Green Pact states that Bosmer can't cut their own wood or harvest any plant matter for themselves, and they live exclusively on a diet of meat. They're also supposed to eat the remains of their enemies after killing them, although their families can also help them with this (nobody tell Aranwen about the dead Mythic Dawn agent in the basement!). This also explains any weird plant-based insults that Pente might hurl at people, the little hypocrite. :D 


	6. Chapter 6: Pretty Eyes

"Mythic Dawn Commentaries... Hmm..." Phintias, owner of the First Edition, frowned thoughtfully. "What a coincidence! It just so happens that I recently obtained a copy of Volume Three."

Pente hopped a little out of sheer excitement. She and Baurus had decided to check the bookshop for the missing volumes, just in case - and it seemed that they were in luck. Coincidence indeed! Obviously, the gods were on her side for once.

..."But you can't have it. Good day." Phintias abruptly turned away and busied himself by tidying some books. Pente emitted a tiny squeak of outrage. _Well, why tell us you had it, then? Ugh!_

Baurus appeared to be thinking along the same lines. "So... why can't we have it?" he asked, folding his arms. "If this is some kind of attempt to get hundreds of Septims for it, you can think again. We're not stupid, unlike, say... Anyone who would try to rip off the Hero of Kvatch."

Pente nodded, standing as straight as she could and puffing out her chest in an attempt to look important and menacing. Well, it had worked for Styrbrand!

Phintias sniffed, looking down his nose at the two Blades. "Well, that's hardly the way you should talk to someone that you _want_ something from, is it?" He scowled, clearly unimpressed by the thinly-veiled threat. "Get out of my shop!"

It seemed to be time for a different tactic. Pente smiled, nervously. "Oh, he didn't mean that."

"Yes, I did." Baurus glared stubbornly at the shopkeeper.

"_No_, he didn't." Pente stepped on Baurus' foot as subtly as she could. "What he meant to say was... U-um..." _Quickly! Think of something flattering!_ ..."You have really pretty eyes?"

Phintias' apparently-pretty eyes formed angry slits as he pointed at the shop door, shaking with rage. "Get. _Out._"

* * *

"Pretty eyes?" Baurus laughed, shaking his head. "That was the best you could do?"

Pente pouted, sulkily. "It was better than calling him stupid!"

"You may have a point," Baurus conceded. He looked at the exterior of the bookshop, thoughtfully. "So, uh... Got any ideas?"

Pente chewed her lip, thoughtfully. _Yes! I'll sit on your shoulders, we'll put on a really long cloak that covers you completely, then I'll put on a helmet to cover my face. Then we go back in there, and he'll just think we're one extremely tall person! It's foolproof!_

_Maybe not._

_...We could send my mother in there to nag him to death, I suppose...?_

"Not really," she mumbled, kicking at a loose stone on the ground.

"We could break in," Baurus mused, "but that would mean you'd have to go alone. I'm not really cut out for sneaking around. Or we could go look somewhere else for the book. Not that I can think of anywhere else that it might be." He paused. "We also have the option of beating him senseless for being such a pompous ass, then we take the book and run."

Pente laughed, hesitantly. He _was _ joking, right?

"Excuse me, please." A male Bosmer interrupted them, motioning towards the First Edition doorway. "I'd like to get in, if you two don't mind."

"Sorry," Pente muttered, moving out of the doorway. The mer who had spoken stepped inside the shop, seemingly in quite a hurry.

"We could try and apologise, I guess..." Baurus sighed. "Do you know any charm spells that we could hit him with?"

"Um, no. Sorry." Pente visibly winced at the thought of her feeble magical repertoire. Baurus grinned wryly, and patted her back.

"Me neither, don't look so depressed about it! We'll just have to use our natural charm, instead." The Redguard fluttered his eyelashes. "Do you think he'll be interested?"

Pente stared, open-mouthed, torn between being amused and horrified. "You're insane."

Baurus laughed. He _was_ acting strangely, but he blamed the Bosmer girl's influence entirely. He had been in a depressed haze since the death of the Emperor, but being around Pente seemed to be bringing him out of it. Maybe it was because she didn't seem to be judging him, despite his spectacular failure in his duties.

Well, that or Bosmeri insanity was contagious. A sobering notion.

Pente yelped suddenly, distracting Baurus from his thoughts, and she jumped out of the way of the door again. The male Bosmer emerged from the shop, nodded snootily, and walked off down the street, stowing a book away in his robes as he went. Baurus and Pente stared after him.

"Did you see that?" Baurus asked, hardly daring to hope.

"Yes!" Pente enthused, still staring. "He must be from Valenwood, wearing robes like _that_. My mother has a similar set, they're really well-made; no plant material involved, of cour--"

"No," Baurus interrupted, "The book! Didn't that look like one of the _Commentaries_ to you?"

"Oh! Y-yes!" Pente blustered, even though she hadn't noticed at all. _Oops_. "Okay, stay here. I'll go and talk to him," she offered, eager to make up for her mistake. She sprinted after the Bosmer, calling to him. "Hey, wait! Excuse me!"

The mer turned around. "Yes?" he asked, impatiently. "What do you want?"

"Um..." _Okay. Be charming. _"I was just... well, I'm Pente," she said, smiling as brightly as she could, "and I couldn't help b-but notice... What pretty eyes you have."

_...And this is why I'm single. Just kill me now. Pretty eyes? Again?! Honestly!_

"Oh?" The mer smirked slightly. "I see. Well, I'm Gwinas. That's very flattering, I must say."

Pente gaped momentarily. _That went better than expected! _ "That's a... a very, um, intelligent-sounding name." Pente's ears burned with shame, but Gwinas didn't appear to be fazed by her rather lame flattery. She concluded that he was either very drunk, or very desperate. "I b-bet you know, um, lots of things."

"Oh, yes." _Oh, no! _"Lots of things..." Gwinas leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially. "I learned a few of them from Sanguine himself, if you understand my meaning..."

Pente didn't, but she _did_ know that Sanguine was one of the Daedric Princes. Perfect! "So you, uhm, know a lot about the Daedra, then?" she asked, innocently.

"Of course, amongst other things. Would you like me to show you?" he leered. Pente cringed inwardly.

"U-um, sure!" she squeaked. Gwinas smirked more widely, and put his arm around her. It seemed that the Bosmeri women here in Cyrodiil were far more promiscuous than back home in Valenwood! He certainly hadn't expected to be propositioned right here in the street. She wasn't the prettiest Mer he'd ever seen, but she seemed eager enough - why, right now she was slipping a hand into his robes. The little minx! Wait, why was she running away?

It took a few seconds before Gwinas realised that Pente had stolen the book from him. He spluttered with rage. "Why, you--!"

"HELP!" Pente screamed, running back towards Baurus. "Quickly, I got it! _Run_!"

* * *

"Okay, I'm pretty sure we lost him," Baurus whispered, peering out of the alleyway. He turned to Pente, who was gasping and doubled over from the effort of running for so long. Gwinas had been surprisingly swift. "You're insane, you know that?" he grinned. "Completely mad."

"Shut u-up. I got it," Pente wheezed, "Didn't I?" She breathlessly handed over the book. A small piece of parchment drifted to the ground as she did so, and Baurus picked it up.

"Well, look!" he mused, a triumphant expression lighting up his face. "It looks like we have a meeting with those Mythic Dawn bastards. Finally!" He showed Pente the note. At last, a chance for revenge!

Pente squinted at the note, confused. "It's addressed to Gwinas! We can't just show up in his place, can we?"

"Sure we can." Pente's heart sank. She didn't like the way that Baurus was looking at her. "Right, Gwinas...il? Rude of them to get your name wrong, wasn't it?"

Pente squeaked, miserably.

* * *

"Keep up," Baurus yelled, opening yet another sewer gate. Pente fumed, and wondered just what in Oblivion the Mythic Dawn were playing at.

_Fine, I understand wanting to meet in secret. Daedra worship isn't exactly the kind of thing people like to discuss in public. But a sewer? Why a bloody sewer?! Sewers are damp and dirty and they __**smell**__. Where's the logic? "Hello, please join our evil cult. We have disgusting, foul-smelling headquarters and everything!" Ugh._

She stomped along behind Baurus, glaring at the floor. Well, at least he was here - that was definitely something. Baurus had slain all the assorted goblins that they had come across, not even noticing that the Bosmer hadn't even drawn her weapon. It was odd - his mood had changed considerably since he'd seen the note. Instead of being gentle, funny Baurus, he was now Baurus the Blade - focused, determined and strong. Kind of scary, too, but Pente just felt incredibly safe knowing that he was on her side.

"I think this is the place," Baurus said, stopping. He cautiously listened at the door in front of him, frowning. They were in a section of the sewer with two exits - one being the door that Baurus was pressing his ear against, and the other being higher up, possibly providing a vantage point over the room.

Her stomach twisting with worry, Pente chewed her lower lip. "S-so what now?"

Baurus grimaced. "Well, I'm _really _ not happy about this, but you're going to have to be the one to meet this 'sponsor' guy. Normally I'd volunteer, but it looks like the Mythic Dawn already know who I am, considering that they sent someone to kill me and all." The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. "I'll keep watch, though. I know you can take care of yourself, but I don't think we should take any chances."

_Oh, very sensible. _Pente nodded, wide-eyed. She'd be okay. Listen to creepy cultist, nod politely, get book, done. What was the worst that could happen?

_Oh, right. Getting horribly murdered._ Pente whimpered quietly, and opened the door to the meeting room. There didn't seem to be anyone inside - the room was bare apart from a small table and chair, and it looked entirely unremarkable. Sitting on the little stool, Pente tugged at her hair, nervously. Were they even in the right place? And where was Baurus? He said he'd keep watch!

A very small movement above her caught Pente's attention, and she saw that Baurus was watching from an alcove overhead. She smiled, nervously - clearly, Baurus had not been lying when he had told her that he wasn't very good at hiding. This did _not_ bode well.

"Ahh. I see you are eager to begin." A haughty, cultured voice rang out, echoing lightly throughout the room. Pente jumped, almost falling from her chair. _Smooth. _ The voice belonged to an Altmer wearing the red robes of the Mythic Dawn, who walked slowly towards Pente, looking mildly puzzled. "You are Gwinas...?"

"G-Gwinasil! Yes. It's an odd name, isn't i-it? I'm not surprised that you got it wrong. Not that I'm suggesting you get things wrong _regularly_," Pente spluttered, "I just, um... G-Gwinasil. Here about the, u-um, Mythic Dawn. You. Hello." Smiling desperately, she offered her hand for the Mer to shake. He ignored it, instead circling around her.

"Well, then... _Gwinasil._ I am Raven Camoran. Yes, the son of Mankar Camoran, our master and teacher," he announced, impressively. He paused for a moment, and Pente wasn't sure whether she was supposed to applaud or not. _Maybe I should ask him to sign my copies of the Commentaries?_

"We wish to welcome you onto the Path of Dawn," Raven continued, resuming his prowling. "We serve our--"

"HEY! Hey, there's someone here!" A new voice yelled, interrupting the Altmer's speech. Pente looked up fearfully, and let out a half-choked scream of horror - Baurus was currently flanked by two of the cultists, their weapons drawn. She scrambled to her feet, pulling her shortsword from her belt.

"B-Baurus! I'm comGGRRkh!"

"You traitorous little _wench!_" Raven spat, grasping at Pente's throat and choking away the end of her sentence. The half-drawn sword clanged uselessly against the floor as it fell from Pente's fingers, dropped out of sheer shock - in her fright, she had forgotten that Raven was even _there._ Scrabbling furiously at her captor's strangling hands, she dug her nails into his fingers, desperately, unable to even squeak for aid. Pente's vision blurred and swam as she desperately struggled for air, everything becoming a hazy crimson blur of red robes and red candlelight and red blood --

Then she dropped to the floor, spluttering, as the pressure on her throat was relieved. Rasping painfully, she looked back to see Baurus standing over Raven's bleeding body, looking utterly exhausted. At the same moment, she realised that Raven appeared to be bleeding all over her. _Ugh! _ Squeaking hoarsely, Pente threw herself at Baurus in a fit of gratitude.

"Thankyou thankyou _thankyou_," she croaked, clinging to his arm. If her throat wasn't so bloody sore, she would have attempted a few more thanks, but Baurus seemed more than satisfied.

"Not necessary." Baurus picked up Pente's sword, and handed it to her. "Scum, attacking you from behind like that. Are you okay?"

Pente nodded, silently. Once more, she had escaped death thanks to someone else's efforts - sure, her throat was unbearably sore and she was definitely going to end up with bruising on her neck, but that was _nothing_. Trying not to think of what would have happened if Baurus hadn't been here, she hugged his arm more tightly. "Th-thankyou."

Baurus smiled comfortingly, and carefully extracted his arm from her grip. Bending down to search the cultist's body, he soon discovered the final book. "Okay, we've got what we need. Come on, let's go - I don't think we should be spending any more time in a sewer than we absolutely need to, right? We should go and get some rest. It's been a _long_ day."

Pente nodded again, and gazed dreamily at the Redguard. He really did have the _best_ ideas.


	7. Chapter 7: Clues, Crazies and Cake

Everything was calm on the Imperial City waterfront. The sky was beginning to turn dark, people were heading home after a hard day's work, and all was quiet. That is, until a scream rent the air, shattering the peace of the evening.

"I just don't _get _ it," Pente wailed, prodding at the book before her, viciously. She was lying on her stomach, the four volumes of the _Commentaries_ spread out on the floor in front of her. "This is _stupid_. I bet Mankar Camoran wrote all this in... in crazy-speech, in a way that only other crazy people could understand it, so that his crazy cult would only be full of _crazies _ and..."

Pente continued to rant, glaring at the book as though it had personally insulted her. Baurus rolled his eyes good-naturedly. If only madmen could read it and understand the clues, then the Bosmer should be having no trouble at all.

After exiting the sewers earlier, they had decided on using the abandoned shack by the waterfront to get some rest. Pente had flat-out refused to ask her mother if they could stay at her house ("Do you _want _ me to die of shame? Do you? Because it would have been more enjoyable if you'd let Raven Camoran just _choke _ me!"), and Baurus didn't want to stay at an inn - other guests might hear their discussions, and he wasn't sure if Gwinas had reported the theft of the book, yet. If he had, it was best to lie low for a while. At least on the Waterfront, people didn't tend to ask too many questions.

Pente was still scowling at the books, her brown eyes forming angry little slits. "...and I wish he'd stop repeating himself so much. Nu-mantia. Liberty. I got it the first time. Ugh." A little calmer now that she had vented her anger, Pente sighed. "I understand the _'come slow and bring four keys'_ bit, I think. That part must be referring to the books, right?" She looked at Baurus for confirmation.

Baurus shrugged. "Sounds right to me. Does it say what you should _do_ with them?"

"No... Oh, I give up!" Pente groaned, standing up. "Ow. My back hurts. Um, are you hungry?"

"Only if you're not going to offer me that Rugmeth stuff," Baurus grinned. Pente giggled, and started fishing around in her bag.

"_Rotmeth_. I wouldn't be that mean! And I think I have enough ingredients to make a cake in here!" she squeaked, excitedly. "I know how to make a really good cake. Did I ever tell you about the one I made in Kvatch? It was so good! It kind of went to waste, though, although I suppose that was the least of what was happening. But still, it was a really nice cake! I made it with chocolate, but I don't actually have any at the moment. But it should be alright without it, of course, I mean..."

Baurus shook his head as Pente chattered away, brightly. Keeping up with the mer's ever-changing moods was proving just as perplexing as those Mythic Dawn books.

* * *

The abandoned shack fell silent as Pente examined her creation. "This... isn't what it was supposed to look like," she muttered. 

Baurus blinked rapidly, his eyes watering. "Is that what it was supposed to _smell_ like?"

"No." Pente chewed her thumbnail as she stared at the object in front of her. It did not resemble a cake in any possible way. It was charred, mangled, had the consistency of sludge, and it appeared to be tinged slightly green underneath the thick layer of ash that covered it. It could possibly be described as an _anti-cake_.

"I'm not sure whether that's comforting or not," Baurus said, fascinated. Reaching out a finger, he prodded the strange concoction. It squelched oddly, and he quickly pulled the finger away.

"Argh," Pente scowled. "What happened? I did exactly the same things as last time!" She paused. "Except this time I had to use a bucket and the fire to bake it instead of a baking tin and proper oven, of course."

Baurus stared, incredulously. She had baked a cake in a bucket - a filthy bucket that had been lying around an abandoned house - and had expected it to turn out _well?_

"What's so funny?!" Pente squeaked, as Baurus burst into laughter. "What?!" She glared as menacingly as she could, which only made Baurus laugh harder. "You're so-- OH!" she gasped, pointing at the floor in shock.

Baurus tried to regain control of himself, and followed where her finger was pointing. "The books? What's wrong?"

"Green."

"I'd say it was more black with green undertones, actually..."

"Not the cake!" Pente scowled, her mouth twitching. "There! The bigger letters!" she ran her finger down the pages of the book, pointing out the elaborate letters that did, indeed, form the word "green". Flicking through the books in turn, reading down the illustrated letters, she smiled, proudly. "Green Emperor Way, Where Tower Touches Midday Sun."

"I guess we know where we'll be tomorrow at midday," Baurus yawned. He wanted to be more enthusiastic, but he was just... so... tired.

* * *

"Good morning, Emperor Martin!" 

Martin shuffled sleepily into the main hall of Cloud Ruler Temple, and gave a weak smile. "Just Martin, please. I'm not an Emperor yet. Please, just treat me like you would treat anyone else." The Blade who had spoken saluted enthusiastically, and returned to his book. Martin sighed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He had slept terribly last night - he had given way to slumber quickly enough, but had been plagued by the _strangest_ dreams.

_Something about... underground tunnels. Men dressed in red, and... _ Martin struggled to remember, the remains of the dream drifting away from him. _Some kind of gelatinous monster, in a bucket...?_

The man shuddered. Maybe it was best if he _didn't_ remember the dream fully. Emperor Uriel had believed in the power of dreams, after all, and it apparently didn't do him any good before the end. Then again, at least Martin wasn't having prophetic dreams about big, burly Nords. That was _always _ something to be grateful for.

Another figure entered the hall, rousing Martin from his thoughts. "Ah, you're awake! Good morning..." Jauffre hesitated slightly. "...Martin. Did you sleep well?" He was still having trouble addressing the future Emperor in such a familiar fashion. Martin pretended not to notice.

"Not too badly, considering the circumstances." He paused for a moment, his brow furrowed. "Have you heard anything from Pente, yet?"

Jauffre shook his head. "Nothing. Don't worry too much, Baurus is very capable. I'm sure that together, they'll be able to overcome any problems that they stumble across."

Martin nodded. He wasn't worried - the mer had been to Oblivion and back, after all. A trip to the Imperial City should be no trouble for someone as accomplished as the Hero of Kvatch, even if she _did_ run into trouble. Besides, as Jauffre had said, she was with another Blade. What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

"I have to go on m-my _own?!_ B-but why?!" Pente shrieked, her voice resounding shrilly throughout the Green Emperor Way cemetery. Baurus winced slightly and waited for the ringing in his ears to fade. Apparently, the Bosmer was less than happy with his suggestion. 

Pente was _furious_. They had found the next clue in Green Emperor Way easily enough - a glowing map suddenly appearing on a tomb surface was kind of hard to miss, even if you didn't know what you were looking for. Baurus had quickly scribbled a mark on their map to pinpoint the location, and Pente had been ready to leave as soon as was necessary. Yes, it was scary, but Baurus would be with her - and Baurus was, clearly, the ideal person to have on your side if you were going up against an evil Daedric cult.

Except Baurus had just told her that he wouldn't be coming along. Pente squeaked, half out of anger and half from fear. This was most definitely _not fair_.

"It's not that I don't want to go. If I come too, your cover will be blown right away," Baurus explained. "I've told you before - the Mythic Dawn _know_ me. If we both go, they'll recognise me and we'll end up facing off against all of them at once. I don't think even _we_ could cope with that."

Pente's mouth moved, but no words came out. _So you think I can cope better on my OWN? What IS this?!_

Baurus continued, apparently not noticing the Wood Elf's mute protest. "So at least if you go alone, you'll be more inconspicuous. The only cultists who've seen you are too dead to pass on a description - so when you get to the shrine, they'll just think you're a new recruit. Give them a false name, act like you love doom, destruction and murdering emperors, and you'll be fine! You might not even have to draw a blade. Unless you want to, of course," he said, grinning devilishly.

"That... m-makes sense," Pente mumbled, feeling slightly better. _Slightly_. Not having to use her weapon in any way sounded perfect, after all. Going in there undercover and snatching the Amulet of Kings back seemed simple enough... At least, in theory. Pente's experiences so far had taught her that things tended to not go the way that she planned.

"Exactly!" Baurus smiled, patting her on the back. "I'll go report back at Cloud Ruler, then. They must be wondering where we've got to by now... Do you want me to pass on any messages or anything, apart from letting everyone know that you're okay?"

_Yes. Tell Jauffre that if he ever sends me on an assignment on my own again, I'm going to kill him. And then tell everyone else that I expect to be welcomed back with cake and soft beds, assuming that I survive. Oh, and if I DON'T survive, please tell them that my ghost will be on its way, and I'll make sure to jump out and make ghostly noises at the most _inconvenient _moments, and--_

"Um, j-just tell them that I'll see them soon," Pente replied, miserably. _Hopefully not as one of the undead, of course. _

"That's the spirit. You'll be fine. See you back at Cloud Ruler," Baurus said, waving. "I'll try and get my hands on some cake or something for when you return, okay? See you soon!"

Pente watched the Redguard as he walked away, her mouth gaping open. Cake?

Wandering towards the Market District, Pente hummed a happy little tune. It was time to go and buy some supplies for her trip. Baurus may have been leaving her to fend off a psychotic cult all by herself, but she just couldn't stay mad at him. Yet again, her new friend had proven that he really did have the very best ideas.


	8. Chapter 8: Dawn is Breaking

Lake Arrius was truly a beautiful place. As the sun shone through the trees, it cast a dappled light onto the ground which glinted prettily off the surface of the water. Brightly coloured flowers were scattered through the lush grass, and a few wandering butterflies fluttered lazily over the land. The only mar on the pristine landscape was the little figure of a lone Bosmer, who muttered various curses under her breath as she climbed the hill towards the caves.

"Bloody... stupid... a-agh!" Pente emitted a high-pitched squeak of pain as she stubbed her toe against a loose rock. Great. She hadn't even entered the shrine yet, and already she was getting injured. That absolutely_had_ to be a bad sign. Limping slightly, Pente continued to trudge up the hill. Her stomach churned with fear as she contemplated her current situation.

_What in the name of the Nine am I doing?!_

_I can't fight. I can't sneak around. I can't lie without blushing and stuttering - so why in Oblivion am I doing this? I should just turn back now. Nobody would know. They'd all think I was dead, and no-one would ever really know what happened. _

_That'd make Baurus sad, though, wouldn't it? And Martin. _

A frighteningly vivid image of Baurus and Martin making sad, over-exaggerated puppy-dog eyes floated to the front of Pente's mind. Standing at the entrance to the Lake Arrius Caverns, Pente took a deep breath and opened the door.

_I'm definitely going to regret this, aren't I?_

* * *

"Baurus! It's wonderful to see you again!" Jauffre exclaimed, ushering the Redguard into Cloud Ruler Temple. "Are you well? How long has it been?"

"Uh, a while." Baurus stretched, tiredly. "It's always nice to see you, Grandmaster. Do you want to hear my report?"

Jauffre seemed to have other things on his mind. "In a moment. Come, before you do anything else, you must come and meet our future Emperor," Jauffre enthused. He had the air of someone showing off a new trinket as he led Baurus to the main hall, where Martin sat reading. "Martin, this is Baurus. And Baurus - this is Martin Septim."

Baurus saluted, a rather worn-out smile crossing his face. "Sir."

Martin raised a hand in greeting, almost awkwardly. "Just Martin, please. No need for formalities. You are the one that Pente went to meet with? Is she alright?"

"Yeah, she's fine." Baurus paused. "Well, uh..."

"Relatively speaking?" Martin suggested, an amused smile hovering around the corners of his mouth.

"Right," laughed Baurus. "By the Nine, she's a strange one. Fierce, but completely insane. She asked me to tell you that she'd see you soon, by the way."

"That's good. Why didn't she come back with you?"

"It's kind of complicated. She's gone to--"

"Intriguing as our elven friend is," interrupted Jauffre, "I believe that now would be an appropriate time to deliver your report. What exactly have you learned about the location of the Amulet and the Mythic Dawn?"

"Sorry," the Redguard apologised, sheepishly. Stifling a huge grin, he began to relate their progress.

* * *

"Dawn is breaking."

Pente blinked at the red-robed man, confused. Dawn wasn't breaking at all! It was much closer to sunset.

Oh, wait.

"Greet the new day?" she said, cautiously. The cultist stepped away from the door, allowing her access. Trying not to look too nervous, Pente swaggered past him as arrogantly as she could. _Breathe. I can do this. Just think like a ruthless maniac. Someone bloodthirsty. Insane. _

_...heck, I should just think like my mother. She fits the description._

"Greetings, sister!"

Pente suppressed a surprised yelp as a rather tall male Dunmer approached her. _I am NOT scared. I am NOT going to scream. Well, not yet._

The Dunmer smiled, patronisingly. "Well, hello. Are we a new addition to the ranks, then? Someone else has come to take up Lord Dagon's cause? Splendid. What is your name, Initiate?"

Pente blurted out the first name that popped into her head. "Ah, Aranwen. Hello."

The Dunmer handed Pente a set of red robes. "Greetings, Aranwen. I am Harrow. Please, you will need to wear these."

Pente held the robes out in front of her, curling her lip in disgust. They were far too big for her, and smelled _vile_. Almost like someone had died in them or something...

The Bosmer shuddered. Best not to think about that too much, really. Pulling the robes on over her own attire, she assumed a serene posture and tried not to breathe too deeply. Harrow nodded his approval, and led Pente deeper into the caves. "You have arrived at an opportune time. You may have the honour to be initiated into the Order by the Master himself!" he said, excitedly. "And even if not, you will get to hear one of his sermons. Isn't that something?"

"Thrilling," Pente chirped, her heart sinking. Just what she needed - listening to more of Mankar's ravings. Wonderful. The Bosmer sighed, glumly. _If he starts with his "Nu-mantia, liberty!" stuff again, I might just kill myself before the Mythic Dawn get the chance._

* * *

"She killed _how _ many?" Baurus gasped. Martin was telling him about his travels with Pente, and the Redguard was getting more impressed by the minute.

"Oh, approximately twenty Daedra, just to my knowledge," replied Martin. "When we left the Chapel of Akatosh, there were at least that many of their corpses scattered on the streets. She was _covered_ in blood and ash... she must have killed most of them without any aid. Isn't it amazing? You'd never know she was capable of that, just from looking at her."

Baurus nodded, slowly. _Wow._ "Yeah, she acts like a timid little thing most of the time. It must be a habit she picked up to put her enemies off-guard, or something. Not that she needs it; did I tell you about how she threw herself at an assassin and broke his neck? And then they only managed to get their hands on her by attacking from behind while she was rushing to help me..."

"She's certainly not your average warrior," Martin said. "She's exceedingly talented. Completely insane though, of course."

"Naturally," Baurus agreed. "All the great ones are."

* * *

Pente's heart thumped wildly as she watched Mankar Camoran give his speech. His words went completely over her head, as her whole being focused on one thing.

Mankar Camoran was wearing the Amulet of Kings.

The Bosmer squirmed, looking around nervously. There was absolutely no chance of her retrieving the Amulet, now! Unless... unless Mankar took it off when he slept. That could work. Perhaps then, she could...

_No!_

Pente's heart sank as she watched Mankar open a portal - apparently to his "Paradise" - and leave Nirn completely, taking the Amulet with him. _O-okay, never mind about that idea. So now what?_

A feminine voice brought Pente out of her thoughts. "Greetings, initiate! Come. It is time for you to pledge yourself to Lord Dagon and my father."

Pente looked up at the Altmer woman who had spoken. "Your father?"

"Yes. I am Ruma Camoran, daughter of the Master," the Altmer explained, smiling proudly. Remembering her run-in with Raven, Pente's hand moved reflexively towards the bruises on her neck. _Eep.  
_

"Come," Ruma exclaimed, "Lord Dagon thirsts for Red-drink! Sate him!" She handed Pente a silver knife and pointed at the prone form of an Argonian lying on Dagon's altar. Pente suppressed a squeak as a wave of nausea passed over her. They honestly couldn't expect her to... to...

"U-um, do I h-have to do this in front of everyone? I'm a little sh-shy, you see. Well, um, not _normally_. Normally I'm a bloodthirsty Daedra worshipper, you know. Yes, I love all that. H-huzzah for... murder and th-things! But, um, sacrificing people, um, gives me stage-fright and I get nervous and then the knife tends to slip and make a big mess--"

"That's the idea," Ruma said, coldly.

"O-oh. Of course. Lots of lovely red-drink for o-our Lord. Silly me." Pente approached the altar slowly, the urge to vomit growing more insistent by the second. The Argonian was still _alive_. Just the thought of plunging a knife into someone who was already dead was bad enough, so this... Pente swallowed.

_M-mara save me! I can't do this! But if I don't offer some blood, I'm dead. O-ohh... _Pente looked around, desperately. All the cultists had their expectant eyes on her - there was no running away from this. Holding her breath and closing her eyes, Pente raised the dagger.

_Nine forgive me._

The knife plunged down, and blood spilled over the altar.

* * *

"Spies?" Martin asked. Excellent. _More_ complications.

Jauffre looked stressed. "Indeed. Arcturus and Roliand have both seen them watching the Temple. Apparently, our attempts to stop rumours of your arrival have failed."

"Should we really be that worried?" Baurus asked. "They can't learn anything important unless they actually get inside here. Even then, it's not like there's much going on at the moment, is it?" The Redguard adopted a nasal tone, mocking the cultists. "Quickly! Report to our master! The Septim heir _likes reading books!_"

Martin hid a smile behind his hand as Jauffre expelled an exasperated sigh. "We cannot even allow them the _chance_ to learn anything," the Breton grumbled. "Something must be done. Yet sending anyone out there would be suicide, if they're planning an ambush and trying to draw us out..."

Baurus sighed quietly as Jauffre tried to figure out the best course of action. He hoped that whatever Pente was doing, she was having more fun than this.

* * *

_Oh gods oh no what have I done make the blood stop please please I'm going to faint--!_

Pente stared, sickened, at the blood flowing from the stab wound she had inflicted in her own arm. Pulling the sleeve of her robe tightly around the wound to try and staunch the bleeding, she held back sobs of pain. _That really, REALLY hurt. H-how do proper heroes manage to just shrug off this kind of thing? Ow. Bloody OW._

She tried to focus herself as Ruma approached, a wide smile on her face. Pente panicked, suddenly grabbing hold of the unconscious Argonian's body. Nobody could realise he was still alive! Everything would be ruined!

"Congratulations, Sister... I... What are you _doing?_" Ruma asked, wrinkling her nose.

"I'm... I'm going to... to eat him, of course," Pente trilled, forcing a pained smile. "You know how it is with we Green Pact-following Bosmeri types. Tasty. Lovely Argonian. Delicious. I'll b-be right back."

Ruma shuddered as she allowed the Bosmer to drag the body away into one of the neighbouring tunnels. _Yuck._ Wood Elves were so _odd_.

* * *

Jeelius groaned as he was prodded into wakefulness. His head pounded, white-hot pain pulsing through his skull. _What happened...?_

Oh, yes. The Argonian vaguely remembered being on his way to the Temple of the One, then someone had stopped him to ask for directions... then he fell. Cautiously, Jeelius opened a single eye.

"A-agh! I mean, um, hello. It's okay, you're safe, p-please don't scream." A Wood Elf in red robes was leaning over him, looking utterly terrified. Jeelius really wished that he knew what in Oblivion was going on.

"Who... where am I?" he rasped, trying to recognise the unfamiliar surroundings. The only thing he could place was the scent... "I smell blood."

"M-mine." The Wood Elf looked at him, pleadingly. "P-please, are you a healer? O-only, I think I'm going to collapse." She showed him a deep wound in her arm, and Jeelius nodded slowly. Carefully, he cast a restoration spell over the bloody gash. As he was still dazed, the spell was rather weak - he couldn't promise that it wouldn't leave a scar, but it seemed to help. The wound stopped leaking blood, and the girl's face instantly flooded with relief.

"Th-thankyou!" she stammered, gratefully. "You have to g-get out of here. You were kidnapped, and I was supposed to sacrifice you, and they all think you're dead and eaten so if they see you they'll kill us both--"

Jeelius touched the partially-healed cut on the girl's arm. "So this was to stop me being slain? Who are you, hero?"

"Yes, but... I didn't... Hero? Although I suppose... G-gosh. I'm Pente," she replied, looking astounded. Jeelius smiled.

"I will remember you always, hero. Please, be careful." The Argonian bowed, and cast an invisibility spell on himself. "Thankyou. Goodbye - Nine be with you!"

Pente quietly drew the hood of her robes back over her face, almost bursting with pride. Hero? The Argonian had to be crazy! But still, when he put it like that... _Well._

_Maybe I'm not so useless, after all!_

* * *

Strolling back into the main cavern as casually as she could, Pente made sure to adopt her most nonchalant expression. _Nothing to see here. Nothing at all. Just another bloodthirsty murderer, nothing unusual._ She looked up to see Ruma beckoning her over towards the altar. Curtseying respectfully, Pente made her way towards the Altmer. She didn't know if curtseying was the correct thing to do in the presence of a megalomaniac cult-leader's daughter, but felt that it certainly couldn't hurt.

"Sister... Aranwen, correct?" Ruma drawled. Pente nodded in response. "Good. I hope you, ah, enjoyed your meal."

"Oh, yes." Pente smiled nervously. "Delicious. Raw Argonian is my favourite. It's superb as a b-broth, too, I really must give you the recipe for the next time we have a sacrifice--"

"That won't be necessary," Ruma interrupted, looking slightly ill. "As our newest initiate, you are to be given the responsibility of cleaning up. Please begin as soon as possible, sister."

_Cults intent on taking over the world have clean-up duty?_ "O-oh, alright. Leave it to me!" Pente said, saluting clumsily with her injured arm. Ruma wandered off as the Bosmer knelt and began to clean the blood and debris from around the giant statue of Mehrunes Dagon. _Eww._

After a moment, Pente furtively glanced around the cave. Nobody seemed to be around - perhaps now was the perfect time to escape! There was nothing that could be done about the Amulet of Kings now, so it was really best to just leave. Getting to her feet, something caught Pente's eye. Curiously, she approached it, careful to not make too much noise.

It was a book, the cover emblazoned with Daedric script. Even though she was no mage, Pente was keenly aware of the magicka radiating from it. It certainly looked very important - maybe taking it would make up for the loss of the amulet. Almost as if compelled to do so, Pente reached out and picked up the book.

A shriek echoed around the cavern as Ruma Camoran appeared, seemingly from nowhere. "What are you doing? You dare to touch the Mysterium Xarxes?" she screamed, as Pente quaked fearfully. "_Traitor!_"

"N-no!" Pente squeaked, backing away hurriedly. Staring at the Altmer, she prepared for the blow that was sure to follow. This wasn't fair, she was _so _ close to safety--

Wait, what...?

There was a resounding crack as the statue of Dagon suddenly split in two, and Pente cried out in fear. She pointed at the crumbling stone and Ruma turned, distracted, and joined in with a scream of her own. It didn't last long. As the statue broke apart, Pente jumped backwards and fled as the stone figure fell, crushing Ruma beneath its weight.

Pente ran for her life, the Xarxes tucked into her robes, and slammed straight into another Mythic Dawn member. "What's going on?" he yelled. "I heard--"

"U-u-um, quick!" Pente squeaked, pointing back at the cave. "There's a-an intruder! I'll alert everyone!"

"Good thinking, my sister!" cried the man, running past her. "Hurry, now!"

Pente didn't need to be told twice. Running as fast as she could, she made her way towards the exit, still not quite able to believe her luck.


	9. Chapter 9: Accidental Matricide

Jauffre breathed in the cool morning air and sighed contentedly. Cloud Ruler Temple was really a lovely place to be on crisp, clear days like this. It was so peaceful, serene... Wandering aimlessly through the grounds, he smiled to himself. Moments like these made it easy to forget all his troubles and just... relax. _Ahh.  
_

The Grandmaster's moment of peace was shattered by what sounded like a horde of angry beasts throwing themselves at the stronghold's gates. "Talos' toenails!" he spluttered, drawing his sword. They were being attacked! Invaded! He _knew_ those spies were plotting something --

The banging stopped abruptly. Jauffre edged nearer to the gates, wondering if the threat was over. His apprehension vanished as a familiar voice started wailing at the other side of the thick doors. "Someone, _please!_ Let me in! Oh, this is j-just _typical!_ I come all this way, travel all through the night, get covered in _snow_, and when I get here nobody's around!" There was an extra-loud bang at the gates at this point, followed by a frustrated shriek. "_SOMEONE!_ Hurry!"

"Pente?" Jauffre gasped, rushing to open the gates. Drawing back all the bolts, he pulled the heavy doors open to allow her access. "Have you-- ARGH!"

Jauffre clutched his shin and glared, resisting the urge to run the mer through with his katana. She had _kicked_ him! "O-ohh, sorry!" Pente cried, flapping her hands agitatedly. "I m-meant to kick the door, and... Are you alright? Sorry again. I'm back!"

Waving her apologies aside, Jauffre straightened up. "Fine, fine. No harm done. Quickly - have you retrieved the Amulet of Kings?"

Pente shuffled awkwardly, staring at the floor. "Oh, um. Not exactly. Or at all, r-really." Jauffre covered his eyes in dismay as the Bosmer started to babble. "I'm r-really sorry! Mankar Camoran was wearing it, and then he went to his Paradise or something so I couldn't take it from him, and then I had to stab myself which hurt a _lot_ more than expected and I had to pretend to eat someone and then --"

"Please," Jauffre said, gritting his teeth, "tell me you have some good news..."

"I... saved an Argonian and stole a book," mumbled Pente, painfully aware of how pathetic her achievements sounded. "The Mysterium Xarxes. They seemed pretty m-mad, so it must be important!"

Jauffre resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Wonderful. You may wish to inform Martin of your arrival. Perhaps our future Emperor will be able to shed some light on your prize. At any rate, he should be present when you make your report. Baurus, too."

Pente made a small, incoherent noise of delight before racing off towards the main building. Jauffre shook his head as he watched her run, a small sigh escaping his mouth. Well, so much for his _peaceful_ morning...

* * *

This could _not_ be happening.

It was that simple. Harrow paced back and forth in agitation, chewing his lower lip. No, this simply could not be. Impossible. The Mythic Dawn could never be outwitted by... By someone like _that._ Surely...

"Brother!" Harrow turned as one of his fellow Chosen ran towards him. "Brother Harrow - you're right. She's definitely not here. It _must _ have been her. Arniwan, or something...?"

Harrow ground his teeth together, seething. "Aranwen. The treacherous little _s'wit!_" Resuming his pacing, the Dunmer tried to calm himself. The Mysterium Xarxes was gone. Ruma Camoran was dead, and if the reports were correct, it looked like Raven was as well. The thought that a tiny little fetcher of a Bosmer could do this was _thoroughly _ humiliating. The girl was either exceedingly lucky, or a master of deception.

No, nobody was _that_ lucky. She must have been trained by master spies to be able to have deceived them all in this way. Damn her!

This _could_ work out to his advantage, though. After all, someone would need to step up and take the Camoran siblings' place as leader while Mankar was in Paradise. _Hmm..._

Turning towards his brethren, Harrow raised his voice to address them all. "Brothers! Sisters! We cannot allow such a betrayal to go unpunished. Our top priority must now be to find the filth who stole the Xarxes and slew Ruma! Everyone needs to be on the lookout. She's a Wood Elf - short, brown-haired, big-nosed..." He paused, thoughtfully. "Kind of stupid-looking. Nervy. Goes by the name of Aranwen. I urge you all to exercise caution if you find her; she's clearly a lot stronger than she looks."

There was a murmur of assent through the small crowd before they dispersed, heading for the shrine exit. Harrow stopped one of them, holding out a hand. "Not you. You're needed here."

The man smiled delightedly, thrilled at being singled out. "Yes, my Brother? What do you need?"

Harrow motioned dismissively at the wreckage around the ruined altar. "You're on clean-up duty. _Do_ try not to step in Ruma, won't you?"

* * *

"You did _WHAT?_" Jauffre roared, leaping to his feet. Pente jumped, bewildered. It really was very rude of the Breton to interrupt her while she was in the middle of making her report - didn't he have any manners at _all_?

"I told them my name was Aranwen," she repeated, slowly. "And then --"

"Oh, no. No," Baurus gasped, shaking his head. "Pente, please tell me you killed them all afterwards. Please."

"N-no," she stuttered, confused. Martin, Baurus and Jauffre were all looking at her as if she had grown an extra head. "I only m-managed to get rid of one. I thought it was best to leave as quietly and quickly as possible."

There was a short silence. Pente squirmed - They were _now _ looking at her as if she had grown an extra head, five arms, and was now cartwheeling around the room while singing the _'I love Mehrunes Dagon and everything he stands for' _song. "_What?_"

"You gave them your mother's name?" Martin asked, gently. "You realise what will happen when they start searching for you, don't you? They will be looking for a Wood Elf named Aranwen. If they happen to find your mother, then she'll be able to tell them exactly who you are."

"If they don't kill her first," Jauffre finished, bluntly. Martin shot him a reproachful look as the colour drained from Pente's face.

"But... A-ahhh! N-no, I... But... we...!" she gibbered, incoherent with fear. Her lip quivering, she swayed gently on the spot.

_By the Nine Divines! I think I've just killed my mother. _

There was a surprisingly loud thud as Pente fainted and crumpled on the floor. Baurus rushed to pick her up, and Jauffre closed his eyes. It seemed that he was developing a rather nasty headache.

* * *

Pente came to, Baurus' voice rousing her back to consciousness. "Come on, wake up. It's okay, Jauffre's fixing it."

"Wuh?" she mumbled, sitting up. "Mother Akatosh, I killed my father." She paused. "No, wait. O-other way around. I think. I don't even _know_ a-anymore. Did I hit my head when I fell? Because I feel like I'm going crazy."

"_Going_ crazy?" Baurus muttered.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. Uh, as I said - Jauffre's fixing it. Don't worry. Aranwen will be fine."

Martin nodded. "He's sending some of the Blades to bring her to safety. You of all people know how efficient the Blades are - they'll bring her back with a minimum of trouble."

Pente hid her face in her hands. "Minimum of trouble. H-hah." She let out a muffled, hollow giggle through her fingers. "Baurus hasn't told you much about my mother, has he?"

"Surely she can't be that bad..." Martin trailed off as Baurus grimaced, shaking his head. Oh. Well, maybe it was time to take her mind off the subject. "Anyhow... You never finished your report, would you like to do so now?"

"Oh! Of course!" Pente squeaked, pulling a sinister-looking book from her bag. "I didn't manage to get the amulet, but I got this instead. The Mysterium Xarxes."

"_By the Nine!_ Such a thing is dangerous even to _handle_!" Martin cried, his eyes widening. Pente emitted a terrified _eep_ and flung the book away from her, as though afraid it would infect her with evil if she maintained contact with it. The tome narrowly missed Martin's head as it soared through the air, before coming to rest on the desk.

Baurus coughed. "Looks like even the Mythic Dawn's _book_ is out to get you."

"Sorry," Pente mumbled, sheepishly. "I'm still a bit jumpy, I g-guess."

"Think nothing of it," Martin said, trying to stop his eye from twitching. "I shall take a look at the book... While it _is_ dangerous, I know some ways to protect myself from its evil power. Why don't you go and get some rest, perhaps some food? You must be exhausted."

"He's right. And I believe I promised you cake." Baurus performed a mock bow and grinned. "This way, milady."

Pente couldn't help a soft "oh!" of happiness escaping her lips. Cake! At last! There wouldn't be much opportunity for forbidden delicacies with her mother around, so it was only right she should take Baurus up on his offer. Her _duty_, even. Hell, she _owed_ it to the cake. It was only fair that it got properly appreciated.

* * *

"Hello? Is there anyone there?"

Aranwen looked around, suspiciously. She could have _sworn _ she'd heard whispering. Oh, well. No matter! She unlocked the door to her house and stepped inside, humming happily. Palonirya had just given her a _very_ generous discount on a new dress, and she couldn't wait to try it on. It was the kind of dress that was simply made for showing off, and Aranwen _loved_ to show off.

Before she got the chance to do anything, however, there was a knock at the door. Aranwen sighed, exasperatedly. If it was that bloody Imperial watchman again, she wouldn't be responsible for her actions. Why wouldn't he understand that it was _necessary _ for her to have a stash of rotting meat in her basement? Did he expect her to ferment her own Rotmeth with the _fresh _ stuff?

_Honestly. _ Bloody plant-eaters never did seem to have brains. Aranwen blamed their diet.

Opening the door, she was confronted with a blonde woman who smiled ingratiatingly at her. "Hello, ma'am. I have been informed that this is the residence of the one called 'Aranwen'." The woman craned her neck, trying to look over Aranwen's shoulder to see into the house. "Would it be alright if I spoke with her, please?"

Aranwen narrowed her eyes. "That's me. Could you make it quick? I'm a very busy mer, you realise. No time for idle chit-chat with strangers."

"You." The woman looked confused. "Ah. Well, you see, I'm Marguerite. I'm new in town, and I was wondering if I could borrow some food from you? I can pay you for it right away --"

"The Feed Bag in the Market District sells food."

Marguerite glanced around, as if appealing for help. "Oh. Um, they're all out of, uh, carrots. My favourite. Do you have any?"

"The very _idea!_" Aranwen spat, furiously. "Just what are you insinuating? That I'm like you dirty heathens who are happy to eat plants until you burst? Ha!" She folded her arms, smugly. "Y'ffre will show you all the error of your ways one day, my dear, and then you'll be pleading for mercy, not for _carrots_."

"I... see," Marguerite said, a small smile crossing her face. "Why don't you tell me all about it? Try and convert me or save me or... whatever it is that you do?"

Aranwen stared for a second. Nobody had ever been so receptive to her before! What a nice young woman. "Oh, of course! Why don't you come in? I have some texts that you may want to look at."

Marguerite turned and winked at the man hidden in the shadows before following the Bosmer into her house. This Aranwen might not have fitted Harrow's description exactly, but he _had_ said that she was a master of deception. Plus, if she wasn't the right one, she could still have her... _fun _ in finding that out.

* * *

"A-ahh! Stop it!" Pente squeaked, dodging a glob of flying cake batter. "Stop, I said!"

Baurus raised his hands, innocently. "What? I didn't do anything!"

Pente glared. "Oh, right. It must have been _ghosts_. In that case, ghosts - please stop throwing cake batter at me. It's a horrible waste." Pente licked the mixture from her fingers. "Wait, a _delicious_ waste. This is so much better than that... that _thing _ I made back in the Imperial City."

"That's not saying much," Baurus teased. "Anyway, I told you this would be more fun than just going and _buying_ cake. Just more proof that I'm always right."

"Hmmm," Pente mused, absent-mindedly licking her spoon. "That's true, now I think about it."

"See? I got it right again."

Placing the cake mixture in the oven, Pente pulled a face. "Don't get arrogant about it unless you want your nickname becoming common knowledge amongst all the other Blades, Baury-bear."

"Hey! That's a low blow!" Baurus affected a wounded posture, clutching at his heart. "If you don't want to be known as Penny forevermore, I'd re-think your strategy."

"Penny's not the most offensive nickname in the world," Pente breezed, recalling Baurus' own words. The smile faded from her face as she contemplated what was to come. "And I'm s-sure my mother will be making sure everyone knows that, anyway. Oh mother Mara, what if she gives everyone else a s-stupid baby nickname as well? She's going to start calling Martin 'Martykins' or something, I j-just _know_ it --"

"Calm down," soothed Baurus, picking up a bag of flour. Distraction techniques were clearly in order. "And think fast."

"What do yo-- H-hey!" Pente squeaked, furiously, as a handful of flour hit her in the face. "Just what are you _doing_?!"

"Testing your reflexes?" the Redguard suggested, grinning. "If you can't dodge flour, how can you dodge an arrow? This is for your own good!"

Pente picked up one of the discarded spoons, still covered with cake batter, and flicked the mixture at Baurus' face. "I could say the same for you," she laughed, then began backing away as Baurus once more raised the bag of flour. "A-agh, wait! Wait! Truce! Don't! I-- HELP!"

Shrieking wildly, Pente ran erratically around the kitchens, dodging flour missiles as she went. Her little legs couldn't run fast enough to keep ahead of Baurus for very long, and she soon found herself scooped up in his arms. Screaming and laughing hysterically, she kicked out furiously as he began to sprinkle the flour over her head --

"Just _WHAT _ is going on in here?!"

The two fell silent under Jauffre's withering gaze. Baurus quickly set Pente back down on the ground and looked down at the stone floor, which was covered in flour and cake mixture. A quick glance around the room showed that the rest of the room had also received the same form of decoration. _Oops.  
_

Jauffre glared at each of them in turn, his face bright red with fury. "I heard screaming, and... You... _This..._" The words caught in his throat as he struggled to keep himself from just killing the two of them and being done with it. "So disappointed... You... not _children_... Mess... CLEAN IT."

Pente nodded, staring intently at her feet. "S-sorry."

"Sorry," Baurus echoed.

Jauffre stamped out of the kitchens, fuming. Wonderful. Two of his Blades had regressed to infancy, another two were off on a trip to save Pente's mother, and his headache now seemed to be blossoming into a rather spectacular migraine. The day just couldn't get any worse.

Sheepishly, Pente looked up at Baurus. "Um. We'd better s-start, huh?"

Baurus nodded, and carefully brushed a streak of white powder off Pente's head with his thumb. "Uh. You had flour in your hair."

"Oh." Pente mumbled, quietly. She reached up and gently wiped Baurus' chin. "You, um, had b-batter there."

They stood in not-quite-awkward silence for a few seconds before Baurus picked up a broom. "We should hurry. If Jauffre thinks we're slacking, he'll probably have a heart-attack."

"Oh, y-yeah." Pente started scrubbing at the kitchen surfaces, blushing furiously. She had a feeling that the fluttering feeling in her stomach had nothing to do with the smell of cake that was wafting through the air.

* * *

**Notes:** I blame Pheonicia for any cuteness-poisoning you may have contracted while reading this chapter (and for breaking my brain - so if this chapter is awful, she has to take the blame for that as well). ;D 


	10. Chapter 10: Aranwen's Arrival

Aranwen smiled as she carried a stack of books into the living room. Placing them down on her desk, she clapped her hands together lightly, turning towards Marguerite. "Now. Where to begin? How familiar are you with all this? I just need to know how much of a heathen you are, so I can properly instruct you. Don't look so offended, dear, you'll grow to accept it in time." 

Marguerite studied the pile of books. The Mysterium Xarxes didn't appear to be amongst them - not that she had _expected_ it to be, of course. The mer wasn't stupid. "I... I don't know very much, if I'm completely honest with you. I worship _other_ deities..."

Sniffing, Aranwen poured out two glasses of Rotmeth. "I _see_." She handed one glass to Marguerite and daintily sipped at her own. _Delicious_. "Then we'd better start with this one." She pulled a thin book from the pile, entitled '_A Child's Guide to the Bosmeri Pantheon: Pop-Up Edition'_. Aranwen patted the book, fondly - the brightly coloured pictures of burning unbelievers on the front cover never failed to bring a smile to her face. "It seems to be about your level."

Marguerite seethed quietly. The Elf was clearly toying with her. Did that mean she knew that she was one of the Mythic Dawn...? _Curses!_ Harrow had said Aranwen was smart, but... _Argh_. By Dagon's loincloth!

"Enough of these _games_, Aranwen," Marguerite snarled. She got to her feet and glared down at the Bosmer. "I know you have the Mysterium Xarxes, and the Master wants it back. _Now_."

"Xarxes?" Aranwen's smile widened. "Oh, well done! Yes, Xarxes is one of our gods. Now, can you tell me which of the _other_ gods he was a scribe to? Do you need a hint?"

Marguerite drew a dagger from her belt. "Don't play dumb. Where is the book?" she growled, stepping forward menacingly. "I'm warning you - we can do this quickly, or I can make your death nice and slow. It all depends on how compliant you are."

The Bosmer didn't appear to be listening. "Would you mind not rushing about so much? You're going to spill your Rotmeth. It does have an awful tendency to stain, you know. Why, my little girl spat it halfway across the room when she had her first taste, you can still see the marks on the walls if you know where to look --"

"I _told_ you not to play dumb!" Marguerite shrieked, kicking her glass over and spilling it across the carpet. "This is your final chance. If you don't tell me where you've hidden the Xarxes, I'm going to carve you into so many pieces that they'll never find them all. Let's see your precious gods save you from _that_!"

Aranwen's dark eyes flashed, dangerously. "_That_ was a waste of perfectly good Rotmeth."

* * *

Cyrus consulted the directions that Jauffre had given him. "The house should be just around the corner. Gods, all this trouble over one mer!"

"The Hero of Kvatch's _mother_," Lena chided him, gently. "Come on, at least it's not a difficult job, is it? It isn't as though we're being sent into any Oblivion Gates."

"At least that would be a job fit for a Blade," Cyrus grumbled. "Far more exciting than being a glorified babysitter --"

"Shh!" hissed Lena, holding out her arm to stop her comrade's progress. "Did you hear that? I thought I heard a scream." She peered into the street, listening carefully.

Cyrus' eyes widened. "Look. That's not the house we want, is it?" he asked, pointing at one that had a Dunmer male standing outside of it, as if on guard. "It _is_, isn't it? Do you think he's...?"

The Dunmer suddenly noticed the two Blades, and banged on the house door. "Marguerite! Blades! Hurry and finish the job!" he cried, before charging at the two warriors. He had no chance against them - Cyrus parried the mer's dagger with his katana as Lena thrust her blade in to finish the Dunmer off, and together they raced towards the house. _By the Nine,_ Cyrus thought, desperately, _I hope we're not too late...!_

Bursting into the house, the two Blades were met with a most... _unusual_ sight. A blonde woman lay dead on the floor with several arrows protruding from her chest, children's picture-books littered the room, and right there before them was a furious-looking Bosmer woman who glared murderously as she scrubbed red stains from the carpet.

"Didn't your mothers ever teach you to _knock?_"

* * *

Pente's voice broke with restrained emotion. "Oh, Baurus... It's... it's so..." _Oh._ Her whole body seemed to sing with need as she tried to compose herself. It wouldn't do to lose control now!

"I know," Baurus smiled, proudly. "Even_ I'm _impressed."

The Bosmer licked her lips, her voice breathy and light. "Can I t-touch it?" she asked, the desire evident in her voice.

"Of course. It's all for you."

"O-ohh," Pente murmured, her heart fluttering wildly. "I w-want it now! _Please!_"

"Get a plate, then," Baurus said, neatly slicing up the cake. It really did look delicious. Hopefully this would convince Pente of the virtues of baking using the correct equipment instead of rusty buckets and open fires.

"Mmmmfph." Pente mumbled, taking a large and very unladylike bite of her slice. "So good."

Jauffre peered around the door, as if afraid of what he was going to see. Sighing in relief that the kitchen no longer looked like it had been attacked by Flour Atronachs, he beckoned to Baurus. "Excuse me. Can I have a word?"

Baurus nodded, heading out of the room. Pente pouted. "But you didn't get to taste the cake!"

"I'll have some when I've spoken to Jauffre," Baurus promised. Pente sulked slightly. Someone else _had_ to taste it while it was still fresh! It'd be a waste, otherwise!

_Oh, yes! Martin!_ Soothed, Pente grabbed an extra couple of slices of cake and scurried into the halls, where Martin was reading quietly. She sat down next to him, pushed a plate in his direction, and smiled winningly. "Cake. Enjoy! I made it myself. Well, Baurus helped."

Martin flashed her a small half-smile, and turned back to his book. "Thankyou."

"Welcome!" Pente polished off her second slice of cake and beamed, satisfied. "It's good, isn't it?"

"Mmm."

She glanced down at Martin's plate, where the cake remained untouched. "Don't you _like_ cake?" she asked, aghast.

"Cake is fine, I'm just a little busy." He smiled weakly at her again, before staring back at the book. It really wasn't making very much sense, yet. Of course, this part could mean--

"Too busy to eat _cake?_" Was he too busy to _breathe_, too? "What are you doing?"

"I'm studying the Mysterium Xarxes. I should hopefully be able to find out how to get to Mankar Camoran's Paradise if I can translate it correctly."

"Oh." There was a short pause. "You can't do that and eat cake?"

"I don't think it would be a good idea to get crumbs on an ancient, delicate book," Martin replied, smiling slightly. Of course, throwing it at his head had been perfectly fine...

"It's still warm, though. And cake really is at its best when it's freshly-baked and toasty from the oven, you know." Pente chewed her thumbnail, deep in thought. "I could feed it to you, if you like?"

Martin spluttered, dropping the Xarxes on the table. Quickly picking up his fork, he took a small bite of the cake, smiled, and picked the book back up. Pente beamed. "Good?"

"Yes. I'm, ah, full now, though. I ate a large breakfast. Would you save the rest of my slice for later?"

_Pfft - men. No appreciation for the higher things in life. _Pente wandered back towards the kitchens, licking her fingers. "I promise _nothing_."

* * *

"It's very cold around here, isn't it? It's a wonder you don't all freeze before managing to fight anyone, honestly. I assume my Penny hates it, she never did like the cold. Why didn't _she_ come to get me, may I ask? Was she too busy with that Redguard? Honestly, that girl has _no_ time for her poor mother, it's criminal..."

Lena and Cyrus exchanged weary glances. After explaining to the Bosmer who they were and why they were coming to fetch her, they had literally had to drag Aranwen from the house. Infuriated, she had babbled something about Y'ffre, smiting and Unthrappa - nothing that made much sense, really. The Blades had only managed to mollify her by telling her someone would be sent back to dispose of the body left in her house. She had asked them if it would be done in accordance with the Green Pact, so they had agreed to that - it probably just meant cleaning up the bloodstains without using leaves, or something. It couldn't be anything too bad, right?

"We're almost there," Lena said, as much to reassure herself as anything else. "When we get to Cloud Ruler, you can warm yourself by the fire."

"I see." Aranwen trudged through the thick snow, feeling somewhat better. "You gather your own firewood, I assume?" _Heathens._ "This really isn't the kind of environment that any daughter of mine should have to live in! Let alone this future Emperor that you mentioned. What is _he_ like?" she asked, with interest.

"Shh," Cyrus hissed. "You have to be quiet! Don't mention anything about that, you'll see him when we get there. This is sensitive, confidential information and we cannot risk it falling into enemy hands!"

"_Enemy hands_?" scoffed Aranwen. "Honestly, who could overhear us out here, anyway? Except for those two over there, in the red robes." She pointed towards two figures standing near a Runestone not very far away. "But they don't seem very threatening."

Cyrus and Lena stared at each other. It looked like Aranwen had just found the agents that were spying on Cloud Ruler Temple.

* * *

"Pente!"

"I wasn't--! O-oh. Hello." Pente smiled rather guiltily at Baurus as he entered the kitchens. He looked around, suspiciously.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing! Nothing. What did you want?" she asked, subtly brushing cake-crumbs from her hands. It wouldn't do for Baurus to know that she'd eaten almost all the cake by herself, after all. It wasn't exactly the most refined thing to do, even if she _had_ been suffering from cake-withdrawal.

"Jauffre's sending me out to Leyawiin tomorrow to pick up some amulets he ordered. Fire-resistant, in case the Mythic Dawn open up an Oblivion Gate here," the Redguard explained. "Seeing as it's possible that I'll encounter some Daedra on the way, how about showing me some of your moves?"

Pente gulped. _Uh-oh._ "M-moves? Um. K-killing Daedra doesn't take anything special, you know?" She laughed, nervously. "Stab stab, slice slice. S-same as everything, really. Nice and e-easy. You know, for warriors like us and all. H-haha!"

"I'd still like to spar with you," Baurus grinned, heading towards the courtyard. "Come on, we might _both _ learn something!"

Pente followed, with the air of someone being sent for execution. "O-oh, okay." They stepped outside into the cold air, and she shivered. "Um, it's a bit cold, isn't it? So you can't expect me to fight at my best! And I'm f-full of cake, so that'll make it harder for me to move quickly. And I'm t-tired. And my arm still hurts."

"Okay, okay! We're only _training_," laughed Baurus. "It's not like I'm trying to kill you. Ready?"

_No! _ "Um, I s-suppose." Pente drew her sword and jumped backwards, squeaking, as Baurus attacked.

_And he's NOT trying to kill me?!_ She thought, desperately, dodging out of reach. She frantically blocked all of the Redguard's bladethrusts with her sword, wincing every time the metals clashed together.

Baurus stepped back for a second, puzzled. Why wasn't she attacking...? Was she afraid of hurting him? "Come on," he urged, "Attack me!"

Complying, Pente clumsily swung her blade towards him, twirling around with the effort. The sword hit Baurus' armour at an odd angle, getting stuck between the plates of his gauntlets, and as Pente wrenched the sword free, the momentum sent him staggering backwards.

"Oh! S-sorry!" she gasped, dropping the sword and flailing her arms apologetically. Unfortunately, she chose to do both things at the same time, sending her sword flying through the air. The sword hilt smacked into Baurus' head, stunning him and resulting in him falling to the floor as Pente squeaked in terror.

_A-ahh! Divines help me! I killed Baurus!_

Scurrying towards him, Pente leaned over and flapped her arms in distress. "B-Baurus! Wake up! I'm really sorry! I d-didn't mean to...!" Baurus' eyes fluttered open, but he didn't respond. Pente knelt down and whimpered, growing more hysterical. "Stop it, you're scaring me! S-say something!"

Baurus looked up, still slightly stunned. He wasn't sure exactly what had just happened, but... wow. For her to be able to knock him down in just a couple of hits was... well. _Nobody_ had done that before. What was she saying, anyway? She looked so _cute_ when she was worried!

"_Say something!_"

"Rawr."

Pente sighed with relief. "Thank the Nine." She paused. _...Wait. Rawr? What does he mean by... E-eep!_

"Penny! Penny, _darling!_"

Pente scrambled to her feet with a little yelp of shock. Flanked by two Blades, her mother was rushing towards her, a smear of blood staining the front of her dress. She was beaming enthusiastically, unlike her more sober companions. Pente was filled with a mixture of relief and despair. "M-mother! Are you alright?"

Aranwen crushed Pente against her in a firm hug. "Yes, yes, of course. We ran into a couple of those... Mystic Dusk people in the woods and one bled all over my lovely dress, but I'm sure I can find someone to wash it for me. It's new, you know, I'm really rather vexed..."

"M-Mythic Dawn?" Pente asked, feeling faint.

"Whatever they're called," Aranwen sniffed. "What's your friend doing on the floor, dear? He looks most undignified. Oh, and where is this Emperor fellow? You really should introduce me, darling. Connections are so important. Come on, it's rude to keep your mother waiting."

Before Pente could respond, Jauffre walked out of the temple doors, stopping in his tracks at the scene in front of him. "I... This must be your... Aranwen, is it?" he asked, nodding his head respectfully. "I trust your journey went well?"

"Oh, hello, Emperor!" Aranwen gushed, dropping into a deep curtsey. "I must say, you have your father's good looks. Teehee!"

Jauffre went red and spluttered, and Pente felt herself die a little inside. "N-no, mother. Martin's this way," she mumbled, leading her through the doors. _Why? Why must everything in my life be scary, disturbing, or both?_

"Martin? On first-name terms, are we? Now _that_ would be a wonderful match for you, Penny. Empress Pente. Imagine!" Aranwen trilled, oblivious to her daughter's discomfort. "Yes, most fitting indeed! So where is he?"

"Here," Pente said, her voice tiny and mortified. Martin fiddled with the sleeve of his robes, thoroughly embarrassed.

"Hello, Miss Aranwen. Pente has told me a lot about you. Welcome." His eyes didn't leave the floor. Martin now completely understood Pente's reaction at the news that her mother would be staying here.

"Oh." Aranwen cocked her head, appraisingly. "Not what I expected, but we can work with you, can't we? Yes..." She stroked her chin, lost in thought. Pente sighed, heavily.

_Maybe there's a nice Oblivion Gate around here that I can throw myself into..._


	11. Chapter 11: Blood of a Daedra

"Pente?"

Pente curled up in her bed, eyes tightly shut. She didn't want to get up. Ever. Damn it - she had just been in the middle of a really good dream involving Baurus, Martin, and copious amounts of cake... And rawr-ing! She certainly had no plans to get up _now_! "Mmf. Go 'way."

"Pente." The voice was more insistent now, and the Bosmer emitted a muffled groan. _Oh, in the name of Akatosh! It's Jauffre. Just who I want to see first thing in the morning. _

_Wait! Eww. _

Jauffre continued, clearly annoyed. "Martin has made progress on the Mysterium Xarxes and wishes to speak with you about it. I doubt this is the sort of thing you can say 'go away' to," he grumbled. Pente emitted a small squeak of apology.

"S-sorry. I'm coming..." she yawned widely, rubbing her eyes as he left the room. After tugging on some clothes she wandered towards the main hall, dragging her feet. _Stupid Jauffre. Stupid mornings. Stupid mother keeping me awake half the night with her nagging._

"Good morning," Martin smiled, as Pente came to join him. "Has Jauffre told you? I've deciphered part of the ritual needed to open a portal to Camoran's Paradise!" He patted the Mysterium Xarxes, which lay on the table in front of him. "I really must thank you for bringing this to us. It seems to be the key to everything."

"Welcome." Pente smiled, sleepily. _Gosh, he has a lovely voice. Soothing. I... So tired._

Martin coughed before continuing. "Ah, good. Well, apparently we need four items for the ritual, but so far I have only deciphered one of them: the 'blood of a Daedra Lord'. Would you be willing to retrieve that for us?"

Pente gasped in alarm. "Wh-what? You want me to go st-stab Mehrunes Dagon or s-something? Because I kn-know I've done lots of scary things, b-but I don't think I'm ready for anything l-like that just yet--"

"No, nothing like that," Martin explained. "I have a solution. Daedric artifacts are known to be formed from the essence of a Daedric Lord, from whence they derive their great power - so obtaining one of those should do the trick."

"Oh." Pente tried to calm herself down, a little. "So how would I get one of th-those?" Surely it couldn't be too difficult. It had to be better than poking at Dagon with a sharp stick, at any rate - and if nothing else, it would get her out of the area so she didn't have to keep her mother entertained. _Thank the Nine!_

* * *

Jauffre massaged the sides of his head. Did Aranwen _ever_ shut up?! 

"...And just look at the state of this kitchen!" she gasped, running a finger along the surface of a table. "Is this... is this _flour_?! Just what have you been feeding my poor daughter? No wonder she's all skin and bone, honestly..."

"We have been feeding your daughter what she _wants_ to be fed," Jauffre grumbled, gritting his teeth. Now was _not_ the time to mention the cake incident - he wouldn't wish the wrath of this crazy Wood Elf on _anyone_.

"Hmm. Well, I'm sure she's being a good girl, despite all the bad influences around here." A disapproving sigh escaped Aranwen's lips. "Where did you say she was, anyway? Leyawiin?"

"No, _Baurus _ is in Leyawiin. Your daughter is on a very important and confidential assignment, which may take her to a variety of places."

"So you sent my baby out there by herself, to unknown dangers, without any help or contact? My poor little Penny?" Aranwen huffed, clenching her teeth. "You're lucky you're such a cutie, Jauffre darling, or I'd be _most_ vexed at you." She patted Jauffre's cheek as she wandered away, humming to herself.

Jauffre's eye twitched. _Cutie?! _Grandmasters were most assuredly _not cute_!

* * *

Pente was beginning to wish that she had just stayed back at Cloud Ruler. This was proving to be impossible! She had visited a couple of shrines so far, with no success. Martin's research had directed her to the shrine of Azura, which wasn't too far from Cloud Ruler Temple. However, upon arriving, Pente had soon discovered that Azura's task would involve slaying vampires. 

_Vampires?_ Pente had fled from the shrine as fast as her legs would go. She hoped that Azura wasn't _too_ mad.

The next shrine she had stumbled across had belonged to Sheogorath. Pente never even found out about the Madgod's task - talking with the group of worshippers there had convinced her that involving herself in one of his schemes would be a very bad idea. The girl with the rather sinister interest in trolls was bad enough, but when one of the lunatics said something about "delicious children" and started trying to chew her foot, Pente fled.

Asking around in Skingrad had, at last, provided her with a new lead. Pente was heading there now - the shrine of Sanguine... Why did that sound so familiar? Almost as if she'd heard someone mention it recently.

_Sanguine... Nope, can't remember. Oh, well._ The Bosmer hoped fervently that this task wouldn't involve anything too frightening. Weren't there any Daedra Lords who just wanted to sit down and have a nice chat?

* * *

"Martin, dearest. Just what are you doing?" 

Martin smiled weakly, interrupted from his alchemy. "Oh. Hello, Aranwen. The Blades appear to be running a little low on their supplies of curative potions, so I decided to make myself useful and start making some more."

"Ah. Using plants, I see." Aranwen swept aside the various ingredients littered on the table, and carefully scooped them into a neat pile before setting them on fire with a weak spell. Martin opened his mouth to protest, but the bossy mer cut him off. "I've been meaning to speak with you about this. It's for your own good, darling. For the good of all_Tamriel_." She sat across from Martin, staring at him gravely. "It's about this casual usage of _leaves._"

Martin goggled, too indignant to speak. _Did she... Did she just set my alchemy ingredients on _fire?

"It's just not right, you know. Most unbecoming. Every time you play with... with _produce_," Aranwen said, looking sickened, "you get just a teeny bit more damned in the eyes of the gods. Now, don't get upset - you're a lovely young man, and I'm sure you can be redeemed with a little work. Have you ever considered worshipping Y'ffre and taking the oath of the Green Pact?" she asked, patting Martin's arm gently.

"I..." Martin groped for words. "Aranwen, I am a _Priest of Akatosh_."

Aranwen shook her head dismissively. "Akatosh, Auri-El - we can soon fix that, darling."

Martin folded his arms, firmly. "Much as I appreciate your concern, I really do not find this appropriate--"

"_YOU."_ Jauffre growled, pointing at Aranwen as he entered the room. "Out. Now. Stop harassing our future Emperor, or I shall be forced to place you under arrest."

"Gosh," Aranwen fumed, pouting. For a moment she looked uncannily like her daughter as her brow furrowed in sulky frustration. "I was only trying to _help_."

* * *

"Hello, hello! I'm Engorm. It's a _pleasure_ to meet you. Have you come to revel in the glory that is the Shrine of Sanguine?" 

Pente blinked in surprise. These worshippers were a lot friendlier than the other groups she had met so far! Perhaps a little _too_ friendly, she reflected, as the little old mer put his arm around her. "U-um. I just want to approach the Shrine. Is that o-okay?"

Engorm looked incredibly disappointed. The disapproving expression on his face combined with his balding head resulted in Pente being forcibly reminded of Jauffre. "You won't be joining in with the festivities, then? Most unfortunate... Well. Yes, feel free to summon our Lord. You'll need some brandy, of course..."

Pente's heart sank. "But I don't have any!"

The mer lowered his eyelids and smiled. "Here. Take some of mine. This is only because I like you, you understand."

Taking the bottle from Engorm's hands, Pente beamed. What a nice person! "Oh, thankyou very m-much!"

"If you want to show your gratitude, you could always join our little revel!" the old mer trilled, winking. Pente shuddered and felt squirmy without even knowing _why_. A female Khajiit sidled over to them, holding out two lacy garments for Engorm's approval.

"Which one today, Engorm?"

He cast an appraising eye over the items, eventually taking one and putting it up against himself experimentally. "Hmm. I think the tassels and fishnets should do nicely. Come, Ashni!"

Pente struggled mightily against the urge to vomit as she realised that Sanguine appeared to be the Daedric Prince of _orgies._ She gulped and took a deep breath. _Do NOT look at anything. Head straight for the statue. Eyes on the altar. C-concentrate. _

_Wait, didn't that Gwinas person say something about learning from Sanguine? O-oh GODS, eww. _

Shuddering, Pente poured the brandy over Sanguine's altar. She closed her eyes tightly and bowed her head in prayer. _Please, just appear quickly so I can get out of here!_

"So uptight, mortal! Why don't you just sit back and enjoy the view?"

"Y-yagh!" Squeaking, Pente stumbled backwards in shock. The disembodied voice giggled, sneeringly.

"Yes... By _far _ the most uptight mortal I've seen for years!" The voice paused, as if Sanguine was considering something. "Then again... those dreams you've been having about the priest and the Redguard... Interesting stuff. But my assessment still stands, unless you're planning on acting those out anytime soon..."

Pente blushed furiously, feeling faint. Her mouth opened and closed in a mute expression of horror. Maybe it would have been a better idea to just go and kill vampires for Azura. Yes. Surely there was still time...

Sanguine let out another cruel giggle - Pente couldn't help thinking that he was really very undignified for a Daedric Prince. "Seeing as you don't seem like the type to do anything _extreme_, how about I give you a nice, simple task? I'll be nice, as you're doing this for an... old friend of mine. Countess Alessia Caro of Leyawiin is having a party, and I wasn't invited. All I want is for you to go there and cast a spell on her and her guests for me. Just to make things a little less _boring_. That's it. You do that, you get a shiny new Daedric artifact. That's what you're here for, right? Unless you _are_ planning on joining in our revel, after all..."

"Wh-what?! No! N-no, I'll do the spell!" Pente shrieked, shaking her head desperately. "It's not going to hurt anyone, right? I w-won't get in trouble for this?"

"Of course not! No violence involved. What's wrong, mortal? Don't you trust me?"

"N-no," Pente said, as bravely as she could.

There was a tinge of amusement to Sanguine's reply. "Smarter than you look, eh?"

* * *

Aranwen pursed her lips and muttered to herself. This was most irritating! "Goodness, surely it shouldn't be too much to expect the kitchens to be well-stocked..." Opening cupboards with no results, she gritted her teeth. Just two different kinds of meat? What kind of backwater army _was_ this? 

There was only one thing for it - she would have to go hunting. Retrieving her bow and arrows from the armoury, Aranwen strode regally out of the temple doors. She had definitely seen deer on her way here earlier, and some venison would definitely hit the spot...

"What are you doing _now_?!" Jauffre bellowed, running towards her. _Goodness, he looks frustrated. I wonder why? He should learn to relax, the poor dear._

"I'm going hunting, silly," she beamed, opening the temple gates. "Would you care to join me?"

Jauffre ground his teeth. "You are compromising the temple's security, as well as putting your own life in danger. I forbid it."

"Come with me, then! You can protect me from Mothic Doom agents or whatever they're called!" Aranwen trilled, linking her arm through his. "It won't take long. I'm a really super shot."

Trembling with rage, Jauffre found himself being dragged out of the gates. "My dislike of you grows more intense with every passing moment."

Nocking an arrow onto her bowstring, Aranwen crept towards the thin covering of trees where she had seen the deer before. "Don't mumble, dearest. I'm trying to concentrate."

* * *

"Get out of my way!" 

Pente was unceremoniously pushed aside by a rather haughty-looking Altmer as she stood in the hallway of Castle Leyawiin. _So rude!_ Sighing, she decided that the castle had to be one of the most uninviting places she had ever been. Everyone was so snooty and condescending! Were _all_ nobles like this?

The Altmer was approaching a guard standing across the hall. "I'm here for the party," she sniffed, and the guard bowed respectfully before stepping aside to allow her access. Pente smiled - at least she seemed to be in the right place. She walked up to the guard, imitating the Altmer's disdainful manner. It was rather hard to look down your nose at someone when you were a foot shorter than them, but Pente hoped that she was managing.

"I'm h-here for the party."

The Imperial looked at her in disbelief. "Dressed like _that_?"

"U-um..." Pente squirmed, uncomfortably. Apparently, shabby armour didn't qualify as party-wear. "Of c-course not! Is there anywhere I can get changed?"

* * *

Rummaging through her bag, Pente let out a tiny moan of despair. She had _nothing_ to wear. This was impossible! What she wouldn't give for one of her pretty dresses, now. Briefly, she wondered what had happened to them. Were they still in Kvatch, or had they been destroyed? Or perhaps the Daedra took _those_, too. She shuddered at the mental image of a Dremora running around in a frilly dress, and continued her search. 

Flinging items haphazardly from her pack, things were looking bleak. "Come _on_," Pente hissed, "There has to be _something_ in here that I... oh!" She smiled, delighted, as she came across something silky buried under several potion bottles.

Her smile faded as she held the slightly crumpled garment in front of her. She stared, completely horrified.

_No. _

_There's no way... This... it just..._

_This is NOT BLOODY FAIR._ Pente clenched her fists and steeled her resolve. Whichever gods were responsible for this, she figured it was safe to assume that they were all _complete gits._

* * *

Yawning, the guard wondered where the Wood Elf had got to. It shouldn't take this long for her to clean herself up, surely? Oh, for the love of Dibella - what if she was a thief? If he had let a burglar loose in the castle, the countess would _kill_ him. Possibly literally. 

Oh, wait - there she was! The guard sighed with relief. _Thank the Nine._ She looked very different now she had got rid of that armour, he thought, but it was definitely the same girl. Her short hair was swept back into an elegant ponytail, she had cleaned the dust and grime from her face, and... and she was wearing a most _unusual_ dress.

It was green. With little unicorns embroidered around the hem.

"Are you going to let me in or not?" the mer snarled, squeakily. The guard stepped aside to let her into the room - guest list be damned, he wasn't going to argue with such a ferocious little creature. Pente swept into the dining hall as regally as she could, holding her head high. _Composed. Poised. Elegant. I'll b-be fine._

"My goodness. Is that a _nightgown?_"

Pente shot the speaker her most withering glare. "I'll h-have you know this is high fashion in Valenwood," she snapped, blushing.

"Funny," drawled the Altmer who had pushed Pente aside earlier. "I was there only a few weeks ago, and I didn't see anyone wearing anything like _that_."

"It's the very newest style," Pente bluffed. "D-don't blame _me_ because you're behind on the times." That shut the Altmer up. She looked down at her own dress, as if contemplating what it would look like with unicorn embroidery of its own. Pente smiled - small victories were often the sweetest.

She glanced around the room, finally spotting the countess talking with her advisor. Her stomach flipped, nervously - it was time to get this over with. Why spend any more time than necessary with these horrible people? Pretending to drop something on the floor, she dove under the long dining table that dominated the centre of the room. Muttering a quick prayer for luck, Pente peeped from under the tablecloth, cast the spell, and ducked back to safety as quickly as she could.

The screams erupted instantly, and Pente felt sick with fear. What had she _done_? Sanguine had promised that nobody would get hurt, but the _screams..._ They sounded hysterical, horrified. She didn't think very much of the nobles, but she didn't want any of them to end up mutilated! Pente peered out through the tablecloth again, apprehensively... and let out a half-choked gasp of shock.

The Countess and all her guests were running around in just their _underwear_. And, Pente realised with a sickening jolt of terror, _s o was she._

_Sanguine! You c-complete back-stabbing, bark-chopping son of a scrib!_ Pente trembled. She was trapped. _I'll be okay. Just s-stay hidden. It'll all be fine--_

"What have we _here_?"

Pente cried out fearfully as a guard lifted the tablecloth behind her and grabbed her ankle. Reflexively, she brought back her free leg and smashed it into his face as hard as she could. The guard let go of her, and Pente scrambled away from the table, grabbing the tablecloth to cover herself with as she went. The entire contents of the table went crashing to the floor as Pente sprinted away from the commotion, the tablecloth fluttering behind her like some kind of bizarre cape.

* * *

Baurus stepped into the Three Sisters Lodge, choosing a seat by the window. It was about time for him to be heading back to Cloud Ruler - getting the amulets had taken much longer than anticipated. Dagail, The Mages Guild representative in Leyawiin, had decided that today would be a wonderful day to lose her magical trinket that stopped her going nuts. Baurus had been roped into finding a replacement so he could get the mer to be lucid enough to actually give him the freshly enchanted amulets, and it had taken rather more work than expected.

Dagail had also said she would be writing him a recommendation for entry to the Arcane University, refusing to listen to his protests about not actually being a member of the Mages Guild. Baurus smiled, wryly. A Bosmer who didn't listen? Whatever next?

Looking out of the window, the Redguard craned his neck to get a better view. There seemed to be some kind of commotion out there... What in Nirn was that high-pitched noise? It was getting louder - closer? - and it just seemed so... _familiar._

"AaaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

Baurus stared in silent disbelief as a screaming, Wood Elf-shaped blur sped past the window, followed moments later by guards. _No. It can't be... There's just no way..._

* * *

Pente ran as fast as she could, her breath catching in her chest as she ducked through the alleyways in her attempt to lose the guards. This was _not_ going well. Clutching the tablecloth more tightly around her, she forced her legs to keep moving. _P-please... I can't keep this up for much longer!_

"PENTE? Pente! Over here!"

Pente almost _wept_. Maybe the Divines were watching over her after all. _Baurus!_ He was holding open the city gates, and he threw a potion at her as she sped past him. Catching it clumsily, Pente glanced at the label. _Invisibility! Perfect!_ Quickly gulping down the contents of the bottle, she crumpled to the ground outside the gates, gasping for breath. _S-safe... now...?_

Baurus soon emerged from the city, looking around for her. "Pente? You still here? They're gone."

_Thankyou thankyou thankyou!_ Pente took the opportunity to rearrange her tablecloth around her while she was still invisible, making sure she was completely covered. This was embarrassing enough without --

The invisibility wore off as Pente finished her arrangements. "Oh, there you are..." Baurus trailed off, his eyes widening and his mouth twitching with mirth. "I... what's..." he got no further before dissolving into helpless, hysterical laughter. Pente glared as fiercely as she possibly could, her cheeks burning.

"It's a _tablecloth_. Obviously."

Baurus only laughed harder. "But _why?_"

"Daedric quest. Sanguine. Took my clothes. I have to get back to the shrine."

"So you were getting chased... for... for..." Tears rolled down the Redguard's face, the laughter only growing more intense.

"Shut up and help me. You don't expect me to w-walk all the way back to the shrine with no shoes, do you?"

Trying to regain his composure, Baurus took several deep breaths. "Gods. This could only happen to you, you know that? Come on. I'll give you a piggyback ride." He couldn't help cracking up into laughter again as Pente responded with a humiliated little growl.

"F-fine." She climbed onto his back, clinging to his neck. "But you _will_ r-regret this."

_Especially when we get to the shrine and I "forget" to warn you about Engorm. Nobody messes with Pente!_

* * *

Martin sighed. Aranwen was nagging him again. She had cornered him with some kind of broth made of venison, and was currently explaining what a lovely Empress Pente would make. Apparently, subtlety was not one of Aranwen's strong points. 

"...and she's always been a good little mer. Loyal, meek, she'd make the _perfect_ wife for a lucky man. Alright, she's not stunningly beautiful - but you don't seem like the shallow type, dear. I mean, just look at your robes..."

"OUT. You insufferable harridan!" Jauffre stormed over, grasped Aranwen's shoulders, and bodily removed her from Martin's presence. Martin distantly heard her cooing and giggling about how _forceful_ Jauffre was, and he couldn't help but shudder slightly.

He was thankfully distracted from any disturbing mental images by the two figures who emerged through the temple doors. Baurus and Pente were back, at last! They looked very much worse for wear, though. Baurus looked haunted, as if he had seen things that no man should ever see, and Pente looked positively _furious.  
_

Her pants also appeared to be on backwards. Martin had no time to contemplate why that would be, because Pente interrupted his thoughts by slamming an object down onto the table in front of him.

"_THERE_. Blood of a stupid gods-damned Daedra. Yours. TAKE IT." She was quivering with rage. "Hurry up and get it out of my _sight_. I s-swear, if I never see it again it'll be too soon --"

"Sanguine Rose."

"Pardon?" Pente asked, distracted.

"I never thought to see this again. I once possessed it, briefly ... a lifetime ago, it seems now ..." Martin trailed off, lost in his memories.

Baurus gaped. Pente swayed, dizzily, images of Engorm and Gwinas and Martin and _fishnet stockings_ swirling through her head before she fainted dead away.

* * *

**Notes:** If anyone gets through this chapter without any mental scarring, I'm incredibly proud. Or horrified, I'm never certain which... Erk! 


	12. Chapter 12: Clearly a Tactical Genius!

Martin stared at the ceiling, wide awake despite the lateness of the hour. He had been dreaming again - one of those strange, lucid dreams that drifted out of memory's grasp as soon as he woke. This troubled him. He had never been the type to believe in dreams holding too much significance, but these were different, somehow... Filled with fire and blood and a sense of overwhelming fear.

_Not_ the kind of dreams that contributed to a restful night's sleep, obviously.

The priest sighed, the unhappy little noise sounding unusually loud in the darkness. Maybe it was something to do with the Mysterium Xarxes - the book was haunting his thoughts a lot more than he was comfortable with. Mentally noting that he should make sure that his wards against the book were at full strength, Martin rolled over and tried to get back to sleep.

It was no good. He soon returned to staring blankly at the ceiling, completely unable to relax. _This isn't going to work.  
_

Pulling on his robes, Martin decided that he should just go and take another shot at deciphering the next part of the Xarxes. After all, it was the middle of the night - it wasn't as though Aranwen was going to bother him when it was this late.

_Unless she hasn't slept, and is still in the halls. Lurking. _

Suddenly feeling slightly on-edge, Martin padded towards the main hall. It would probably be worth his while to brush up on his illusion skills sometime soon - he had a feeling that invisibility and silence spells would be invaluable in dealing with Aranwen. Yawning widely, he settled himself down at one of the tables, rubbed his eyes, and began to read.

Minutes passed, the only movements in the room being Martin turning the pages of the Xarxes and occasionally strengthening his wards against the book's corrupting influence. It was most frustrating - the symbols just didn't seem to be making sense anymore. Martin wondered if the Xarxes had some kind of enchantment that was designed to confuse the reader, or if it was just due to exhaustion that the script seemed to be swirling before his eyes. He really was so _very _ tired... Maybe he could just close his eyes. Just for a moment.

* * *

"Hey. Wake up." 

Martin's eyes snapped open and he almost fell from his seat in shock, making little incoherent noises as he struggled to orientate himself. His heart pounding, he looked up into the face of Baurus, who seemed incredibly amused to have literally caught him napping. It was still dark - he couldn't have been asleep for long. Martin cleared his throat. "Um, ahem. What are you doing awake? Isn't it rather late?"

"I couldn't sleep. Nightmares," Baurus said, evasively. _Anyone_ would have nightmares after seeing what he had seen at the Shrine of Sanguine. _Ugh_. "So why are you up? I'm guessing there's a _reason_ that you're in here using the Xarxes as a pillow instead of being in bed?"

Martin glanced down at the book self-consciously, hoping that he hadn't drooled on it in his sleep. _So mortifying._ "Well, ah... Nightmares for me, too. I have them a lot in recent days. I couldn't get back to sleep, so I thought I should make myself useful..." he waved his hand towards the Mysterium Xarxes. Baurus frowned.

"You're working too hard, you know."

"I'm not the one out there actually doing something about all this. If anyone's working too hard, it's Pente. You were there when she fainted - she must be exhausted. I'm quite worried about her."

Baurus decided not to comment on the factors that _he _ thought had contributed to the mer's fainting fit - he really didn't want to contemplate the mental images any more than he already had. But this provided the perfect opportunity for some... investigation. Purely for educational purposes, obviously. "Worried? You two are close, then?"

"Of course," Martin said, obliviously. "She's a good friend. Her assistance has been invaluable - yours as well, of course. _All_ of the Blades have been--"

"A _good friend_?" Baurus pressed. Martin's jaw dropped as he realised what exactly Baurus was getting at.

"Just _friends_," he said, firmly. "Nothing more. She's nice to have around, naturally, but we could never have anything but a purely platonic relationship." _No matter what Aranwen thinks._ "She's skittish, neurotic and--"

"Hey, she's not _that _ bad," Baurus protested. "No need to go too far. At least things are never boring with her around."

Martin shook his head. "I didn't mean it that way." He paused for a moment, suspiciously. "Why does it matter to you?"

"Oh, I just don't want to see her hurt," replied Baurus, airily. "And if I got the wrong idea, what if she did as well?"

The Imperial laughed. "Don't be absurd! I..." He faltered, beginning to wonder._ Well, she _does_ tend to stutter and blush a lot in my presence, sometimes. I suppose she's eager to do favours for me, too, but she might be like that with everyone. And she... Oh, no. She attempted to feed me cake. _

_Oh, bloody hell!_

Baurus had to bite his lip to hold back laughter at Martin's flustered appearance. He liked the Imperial, but by the Nine, he was fun to tease...

* * *

Countess Narina Carvain narrowed her eyes, thoughtfully. So many strange things had been happening lately, and she was completely at a loss as to what was going on. Of course, not many people _did_ have much of an idea about the various things that were happening - the Emperor's assassination, the fall of Kvatch, the gates to Oblivion that were apparently popping up everywhere... Cyrodiil had been thrown into confusion, and all anyone could get out of High Chancellor Ocato was a rather infuriating statement about him being a_ very _busy mer, and a request for people to submit their questions to him in writing. 

Narina had complied with this request, and sent a rather scathing letter in which she informed the Battlemage that she appreciated that he was busy, but she rather thought that he should do his bloody _job_ and start making plans. What was that phrase she had used...?

Ah, yes._ 'Get your staff out of your backside and get on with it, you self-important old idiot.' _That was it. Narina smiled at the memory - she was rather proud of that one. She couldn't wait to hear Ocato's response.

The court herald, Tolgan, rushed through the castle doors and bowed. "My Lady. I bring news."

"Excellent. From the High Chancellor?" the Countess asked, allowing herself a small smirk. Tolgan shook his head.

"No, not yet. It's about the deaths - Jearl and the other woman. It seems the Blades had some involvement," he replied, hesitantly. It was clear that he was holding something back. Narina leaned back in her chair.

_Blades. Of course. Isn't it always the same when anything unusual happens in Bruma? _She sighed, loudly. The Blades were usually very good about telling her of their activities, but lately they had offered her nothing but silence. This was fine, of course, until their affairs affected her and her people. This would _not_ do. "Unsurprising. So, what gives you that impression?"

"This." Tolgan held out a small, crumpled note. "It was found in Jearl's house when Carius Runellius was in there looking for clues."

Narina read the note, growing more and more concerned as she did so. It looked like there was a_ lot_ of things going on at Cloud Ruler that she had not been informed about. She fumed silently, her lips compressed into a thin line as she read. 'T_he Septim heir has gone to ground at Cloud Ruler Temple'_?

_'Once the Great Gate is opened, the fall of Bruma is assured'? _

No, this most certainly_ would not do.  
_

Once again narrowing her eyes in thought, Narina addressed her herald. "Tolgan - organise an escort for me, please. Someone from the Fighters Guild should do nicely. It appears that I have an appointment at Cloud Ruler Temple."

The countess angrily folded her arms. It was time to meet this alleged heir of the Septims to ask him what in _Oblivion_ he thought he was playing at.

* * *

"Good morning!" chirped Pente, waving at Martin and Baurus as she entered the temple. She received a wave and a rather odd grin from Baurus in return, but Martin didn't appear to have heard her. Scurrying over to the two men, she prodded the Imperial's shoulder. "G-good morning?" 

Martin's back stiffened. "Oh. Hello."

Pente wrinkled her nose, slightly offended. Apparently, Martin was cranky this morning. _Well, fine! _ "Um... Any progress on the Xarxes?"

"Not much."

"Oh. Well, um, okay."_ Gosh. Make that REALLY cranky.  
_

"Don't mind him. He's just tired," Baurus said. "Aranwen asked us to tell her when you got up, by the way. She wants to talk to you." He paused, glancing around the room. "I suggest you hide under the table."

"Penny! Come here a moment, dear. Mummy wants a quick chat." Aranwen peered around the doorway, beckoning for Pente to join her in the armoury. The younger mer groaned, almost inaudibly.

"Sorry. Too late," Baurus shrugged, offering an apologetic grimace.

"_Help me,_" Pente whispered, before heading over to the armoury. She closed the door after being prompted to do so by Aranwen, and prepared for the verbal onslaught.

"Dearest. I appreciate that you're making the effort, but this just isn't working, is it?" Aranwen laid a hand on Pente's shoulder and smiled comfortingly. "You need my help, sweetie, and I'm going to give it to you."

"Wh-what?" Pente asked, genuinely confused.

"I'm going to help you. You know..." Aranwen waved her hands, searching for the right words.

Pente blinked. "With archery? O-ooh, that'd be great! I --"

"No, silly. With _Emperor Martin_. I'm going to help you _woo_ him! Won't this be fun?"

"What? I don't --"

"Sweetheart, there's no need to deny it. If I was, oh, a couple of years younger then I'd go for him myself." Aranwen winked, emitting a high-pitched giggle. "Though I think I'd be too worldly for him, don't you agree? He's but an innocent Priest of Auriakosh, after all."

Pente flinched slightly._ Innocent? After worshipping Sanguine? H-hah!_ "M-mother. No. Stop it." She paused. "And it's Akatosh."

"Yes, yes, Akatosh. That too." The older mer rolled her eyes. "But the point is, I don't think he realises that you have feelings for him --"

"I don't." It was true - Pente was amazed at how much disturbing mental images could put you off someone. _Ick_.

"Don't interrupt, darling. It's rude. As I was saying, he's an innocent young man, so he'll be a bit slow to realise your intentions. You need to be a little more brazen, dear. Flutter your eyelashes, pay him compliments, sit extra close to him at dinner... And your clothes. These are _not_ the kind of thing you should wear if you're trying to attract a man." Aranwen plucked at Pente's plain green tunic, curling her lip in distaste. "What happened to your _nice_ clothes, dear?"

"They were in my house. It _burned down_."

"Ah, yes. Kvatch. Of course. I'll have to see about getting you some new clothes," Aranwen mused. "But for now, you should work with what you have! Why don't you pull down the neckline on this a little, show some cleavage?"

"Because she lives with a large group of men, and she doesn't want to drive us all mad with lust?" Baurus suggested, entering the armoury. Pente squeaked and blushed, Aranwen scowled, and Baurus simply grinned. "Sorry to interrupt. I, uh... Pente has to come with me. Important secret business. The usual stuff. And I think Jauffre was looking for you, ma'am."

"Jauffre?" Aranwen asked, touching her hair self-consciously. "Ooh. Go off and do your official secrety spyingness then, darling! I'll talk to you later." Aranwen skipped out of the room, leaving Baurus and a very relieved Pente behind.

"Thanks," Pente beamed. "Where are we going? Did Martin finish some more of the Xarxes?"

"No. Nothing like that. We're taking part in 'Operation: Stop Pente Getting Nagged To Death.' It's really important."

Pente laughed, suddenly filled with the urge to smother Baurus in thankful hugs. "And Jauffre...?"

"...Should run. Quickly." He paused. "We probably should, too. I doubt he'll be too happy about this..."

* * *

"Martin, dearest? Have you seen Jauffre?" Aranwen asked, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. Martin looked up from the Xarxes and nodded. 

"I think he's in his private quarters. Just through there," he said, pointing.

Aranwen beamed. "So helpful. Thankyou, sweetie!" She flounced off, and Martin suppressed a guilty smile. Better she bothered Jauffre than him, after all...

The armoury doors opened again, and Baurus came running into the hall, Pente following close behind. "Martin! If anyone asks, we've gone patrolling or something. Just cover for us!" he yelled, before racing out of the main doors.

"Okay," Martin replied, even though nobody was there to hear him. He shook his head, bemused. "Gods' blood, those two are strange..."

_Wait. _Martin stared down at the Xarxes. _Gods' blood...?_

_That's it! The next ingredient is the blood of a Divine!_ It seemed so obvious, now. _That_ was why the symbols were so similar, yet different! Yes, it all made a lot more sense. But...

_Where would someone get_ that _from?_

* * *

It was dark in the Mythic Dawn's new hideout. After abandoning the caverns at Lake Arrius, they had relocated to an old Ayleid ruin. Harrow rather liked it; the location was rather appropriate considering Mankar Camoran's sense of aesthetics, and the place had an air of mystery and grandeur that was simply _perfect._ It was a pity that Dagon's statue had been destroyed... It would have looked most impressive relocated here. As things were, they had just managed to bring part of the statue with them, and the Mythic Dawn were currently worshipping a stone replica of Mehrunes Dagon's left foot. 

But still - other than that, their new base of operations was rather impressive, Harrow thought. His head turned as an agent came sprinting towards him. "My brother! Brother Harrow! We have news from Leyawiin!"

Harrow sighed. "If it's another Khajiit joke, I don't want to hear it." He rolled his eyes. "I've told Cingor over and over, they're _just not funny_. Once you've heard one, you've heard them all. I get it. Khajiit are like cats. Move _on_."

The agent who had first spoken, a young Breton, shook his head. "Um, no. It's about Aranwen. Sort of. I suppose." He held out a sheet of parchment. "Isn't this...?"

Harrow snatched the parchment and stared in disbelief. There in front of him was a rather crude sketch of a Wood Elf girl's face, along with the words '_Wanted - for undisclosed offences concerning the Countess Alessia Caro, assault, and crimes against common decency. Please contact the Imperial Legion if you have any information on this matter'_.

"It's her." Harrow was absolutely certain. The picture was hastily sketched out, but he definitely recognised the nose and the expression of dumbfounded horror on her face. "She's in _Leyawiin_? And a wanted criminal?" he asked, incredulously.

"She _was,_" the Breton explained, "But not any more. Cingor's been searching, and there's no trace of her. She must've skipped town."

"So what of the reports about her being sighted in the Imperial City? And Bruma?" Harrow asked, beginning to pace back and forth. "We know that she killed Marguerite and Ulen. Jearl and Saveri too, most likely. So why? Why would she flee to Leyawiin? Why isn't she meeting with the Septim heir? She _must_ have been in Bruma! But..."

The Breton shuffled his feet, nervously. "Well... some of us were talking to Dralora - Ulen's wife. We asked her a bit about Aranwen - what's she like, where might she go, that kind of thing. It looks like we got the wrong mer," he mumbled. "The one from the Imperial City was older. Dralora knew her, a bit. She said Aranwen was a bit crazy. And that she had a daughter."

Harrow closed his eyes. "A daughter. Would she happen to have..."

"Yep. She described her as short, brown hair, big nose, scared of everything." The Breton shuffled some more, clearly uncomfortable. "Named Pente. About the right age, too."

"_Blast!_" Harrow aimed a fireball at a wall to relieve his frustration. The Breton ducked for cover. "We fell _right_ into her trap! This girl, this... _Pente_. She must have known that we'd go looking for an Aranwen, find her madwoman of a mother, and get filled with arrows. _Blast_ the little s'wit! She's cost us four of our agents without even having to lift a finger!" The Dunmer shook with impotent rage, his fists clenched. "The little fetcher. She's one step ahead of us, _again._"

This was completely intolerable! Harrow dismissed the Breton, and resumed his pacing. Clearly, this 'Pente' was a tactical_ genius._ This was going to take some thought.

* * *

**Notes: **For those of you who haven't heard the Khajiit jokes of Leyawiin... Why do Khajiit lick their butts? 

_...To get the taste of Khajiit cooking out of their mouths!_

Harrow's right, it's not funny. I personally prefer a more sophisticated style of humour... Y'know, the kind with innuendo, squicky imagery and recurring jokes about unsuitable nightwear.

What...?


	13. Chapter 13: Of Cake and Countesses

Baurus couldn't _believe_ what he was hearing. Pente was telling him about one of her past experiences and... Well. It was absurd. She _had_ to be teasing him. They kept walking along the road towards Cloud Ruler Temple as Pente continued with her story.

"...And then it attacked me! It was horrible. B-blood everywhere. I seriously thought I was going to die," she said, waving her arms animatedly. "I had nothing to defend myself with, so I screamed as loud as I could and started throwing rocks at it - but nothing worked, it just kept getting closer and closer. And _just_ as it was about to finish me off," she continued, moving her hands in claw-like swiping movements, "Mother shot it. Arrow to the face. And then she made me eat it that night for dinner."

"So Pente, almighty Hero of Kvatch, was almost killed by a _mudcrab_?" Baurus stared, incredulously. She could _not_ be serious.

She scowled in mock anger. "I told you - I was only a little mer at the time. It's true! I still have the scar on my leg!"

Baurus raised his eyebrows. "Oh. You'll have to show me that one."

Pente giggled, pushing open the temple gates. "I can't; I'm wearing pants! If I wanted to show you it, I'd have to take them off! S-silly."

Following the mer through the gates, Baurus couldn't help but grin. "It was worth a shot."

"What?" Pente murmured, distracted. She stopped dead in front of the doors that led to the main building, and pressed her ear against them. "C-can you hear that?"

Baurus leaned over to listen and winced slightly. "Uh-oh." The noises coming from the other side of the door indicated that Jauffre was mad - and the two had a feeling that they could guess _why._

* * *

"In the name of Talos - leave me _alone_, you wretched woman!" Jauffre shouted. He stormed through the hall, positively seething with rage. "I have duties to attend to, and your constant presence is _not _ aiding my concentration!" 

Aranwen giggled girlishly as she trailed behind him. "Are you saying that you're easily distracted by a pretty face? Oh, you're such a _charmer!_"

The Breton ground his teeth together. "No. I happen to be easily distracted by your _constant babble!_" He turned to face the Bosmer, who smiled blithely at him as he glared. "Keeping Cloud Ruler safe and organised is _far _ more important than your inane chatter, and I really --"

"Dear, you should learn to relax," Aranwen interrupted, patting Jauffre's arm. "Would you like a massage?"

"Most assuredly _not_."

"Are you sure? You seem awfully tense. And, you know, I've been told that I'm _very_ good with my hands."

Jauffre spluttered, shaking with rage as the mer shot him a lascivious wink. "You..."

"Teehee! Have I rendered you speechless, darling?"

The Grandmaster's eyelid twitched. Enough was enough. He'd render _her_ speechless!

* * *

As the noises from inside the temple came to an abrupt end, Pente and Baurus glanced at each other. "D-do you think it's safe?" Pente whispered, tentatively. 

Baurus shrugged. "They've either gone somewhere else, or they've killed each other. Either way, it should be fine."

"Not funny," Pente mumbled, smiling in spite of herself. Carefully, quietly, they eased the temple doors open and peeked inside.

The sight that met them was _horrific_. Pente's eyes grew wide, her face turned a peculiar shade of green, and she took a tentative step backwards. So wrong. This couldn't be real...

Jauffre and Aranwen were _kissing. _Enthusiastically. Loudly. _Horrifyingly.  
_

Baurus coughed, prompting Jauffre to spring backwards as though burned. Unfortunately Aranwen only continued to cling to the Breton, and the unexpected resistance she provided caused them both to topple over onto the floor with a crash. Jauffre spluttered, his face flushing bright red.

"M-mother?" Pente squeaked. She wobbled slightly, vaguely wondering if she was going to faint again. She seemed to be doing that a lot, lately.

Aranwen smiled brightly, standing upright and dusting herself off. "Oh, hello, darlings. Back so soon?"

There was an awkward silence. Jauffre picked himself up off the floor, looking thoroughly humiliated, and Aranwen quickly resumed her clinging. Jauffre squirmed. "A-ah. Um. You two. Uh." Hadn't he been mad with them a minute ago...? He couldn't imagine _why._ "I believe that, ah, Martin was looking for you. Yes. Martin." Jauffre attempted to extricate himself from Aranwen's grip, but to no avail. "He, ahm... You know. Mysterium Xarxes. You should go and... Just go."

"Yes, sir," Baurus nodded, and quickly steered Pente out of the hall by her shoulders. He shuddered as Aranwen's voice followed them out of the room.

"So _clever _ of you to get us some more alone-time, darling! So... Where _were_ we?"

* * *

Martin gasped as Baurus and Pente entered the kitchens, the latter looking very pale and weak. "What's happened?" he asked, concerned. "When did you get back? Is Pente in need of healing?" 

"I'm on it," Baurus said, grimly. Opening a cupboard, he grabbed the last slice of the cake they had made, and pushed it into Pente's hands. Taking a tiny bite, she grimaced.

"Mmph. Stale."

"Cake is cake," Baurus replied. He turned to Martin. "Jauffre said you were looking for us."

"Oh! Yes," Martin smiled. "I've finally made some more progress on the Xarxes. Speaking of Jauffre, I think he should be present while I'm explaining. He knows more about some of this than I do." Martin walked towards the door.

"No! _Stop_!"

"D-don't go in there!"

Martin turned, curiously. "Why? What's going on?"

"Do you want to end up like _her_?" Baurus asked, pointing at Pente. The mer was clutching at her stomach, the cake forgotten. "Jauffre. Aranwen. You just _don't_ want to know. Trust me. It can't be un-seen."

The Imperial shuddered. "Ah. Well, then, I'll explain it myself. The second item needed for the ritual is the counterpart to the first: the blood of a Divine. But unlike the Daedra Lords, the gods have no artifacts, and do not physically manifest themselves in our world. How then to obtain the blood of a god? But Jauffre solved it. The blood of Tiber Septim himself, who became one of the Divines. This is a secret remembered only by the Blades, passed down from one Grandmaster to the next. Jauffre _should_ tell it to you himself, but, ah..." Martin scratched his head, smiling sheepishly. "As he's _indisposed_, I shall explain. He told me that the armour of Tiber Septim lies in the place known as Sancre Tor. I've marked the location on this map for you."

Baurus took the map, nodding. "Okay. We'll go get it. I think it's best I get her out of here as soon as possible." He indicated Pente, who still looked very ill. "We'll see you when we get back. Uh..." Baurus patted Martin on the back. "Good luck with _those_ two. Seriously."

"Good luck getting the armour. See you soon." Martin sighed heavily as he watched the two Blades leave. _Lovely. On my own again, then._ He was going to go stir-crazy before long - being stuck in the same place all the time with very little company was a lot more taxing than he could have anticipated. Surely it wasn't too much to ask for something to relieve his boredom?

He decided that it would be best if he went to get some fresh air. Sitting in the courtyard would at least provide a change of scenery.

* * *

Narina was almost beginning to wish she had stayed in the castle. It was snowing, her cloak was soaked through, and she was stuck with the most dim-witted oaf of a Nord that she'd ever met. 

"Fear not, fair lady! I shall protect you!" the Nord bellowed, running forwards to attack what seemed to be a young deer. Narina sighed. This was the last time that she would allow Tolgan to choose her escort without her checking to see if he was suitable first. It seemed that her herald had just chosen the biggest, burliest man that he could find, which was all well and good except for the fact that he seemed to have no brains whatsoever.

"I assure you, I am not threatened by the presence of deer. Leave them be!" she snapped, irritably. Her escort pouted, and sheathed his sword.

"But if you die, I won't get paid. And my glowing reputation will suffer! Fair Countess, would you inflict such suffering on me?"

She gritted her teeth. She really was going to _kill_ Tolgan. "Just how is a _deer_ any threat to my life?"

The Nord shrugged. "It could, um, trample you. Very dangerous."

"Then you have my permission to kill any deer that get close enough to trample me. Now hurry. It's _cold_," Narina replied, imperiously. They continued up the path towards Cloud Ruler Temple, the Nord leading the way. In any other circumstances, Narina would have been excited. She was an avid collector of Akaviri relics, and visiting a genuine Akaviri stronghold like Cloud Ruler would be a genuine treat... It was just a pity that the reason for her visit wasn't a pleasant one. _Bloody Blades and their secrets. _She was definitely going to give them a piece of her mind.

Upon reaching the gates to the Temple, Narina watched as the Nord banged against them with his fist. "Open up!" he bellowed, impressively. "The Countess of Bruma demands entrance!"

Narina closed her eyes in annoyance. _Classy. _ Though, she had to admit that she was a touch irritated that nobody had opened the doors to greet her. Surely they had guards at the watchtowers? _Someone_ must have seen her approaching!

The Nord banged the doors again, turned to Narina, and shrugged. "Maybe nobody's home." The Countess shot him a withering glance, but was spared comment by a voice coming from the other side of the gates.

"You don't _sound_ like a Countess."

The Nord spluttered, and Narina rolled her eyes. She raised her voice, addressing the thick wooden gates. "_I'm_ the Countess. Countess Narina Carvain of Bruma. Could you let me in, or do you plan on letting me freeze to death?"

There was a short pause. The voice at the other side piped up again. "I shouldn't really let anyone in, to be honest. I'm, ah... New around here, and so I wouldn't--"

"Fetch Jauffre." Narina closed her eyes again in frustration. "Jauffre knows of me."

An odd, strangled noise floated through the door. "I don't think he... He's, ah, indisposed at the moment, and --"

"Hang on," the Nord interrupted. He raised his voice again. "Martin? Brother Martin?"

The sound of various bolts being drawn back was shortly followed by the gates being thrust open, revealing a rather shocked-looking man in a priest's robe. He stared at the Nord in disbelief.

"_Styrbrand_?"

Narina looked back and forth between the two men. Clearly, there was a story involved here, but she was too cold and tired to be curious about it. "As you're acquainted with my escort, can you _please _ let us in?" she sighed. "I have news regarding a danger posed to Bruma and the man you're apparently hiding here. The Septim heir?" She raised an eyebrow, as if daring the priest to deny it.

"Oh. Of course. That would be me, I suppose," Martin said, standing aside to let the two inside the Temple. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Narina's mouth fell open in a manner most unfitting for a Countess. Well, _that _ was unexpected.

* * *

"This is Sancre Tor?" Pente asked, biting her lip. "It doesn't _look_ like the kind of place that'd be hiding a god's armour. Where are the d-deathtraps? Or the... the wild beasts left to guard it?" It was just a fort, damaged by the ages, the kind of thing that was littered throughout Cyrodiil. Sure, it was big, but hardly impressive. Pente had been expecting grand, swooping archways, guarded by huge, monstrous creatures and swinging blades... Although, she reflected, that would hardly have been subtle enough to hide the armour for such a long time. 

"You're _complaining?_" grinned Baurus. "Don't worry, I'm sure it'll be more exciting inside. Lots of bad guys for you to slash up. Sound good?"

"O-oh." Pente forced a smile. "Sounds g-great! Exciting! Y-yes." She walked as closely to Baurus as she could get as they entered the crumbling ruin - after all, there was no sense in putting herself in any unnecessary danger, was there?

_Nope. I'll stay safe, thankyou. It's not like I have any ulterior motives or anything. Nope. Not at a-all._

Sancre Tor was, as Baurus had predicted, a lot less welcoming on the inside. Pente felt chills running down her spine as they walked through the ancient corridors. It was like the place itself was malevolent, willing them to fail in their mission. The Bosmer shuddered - something was definitely _very_ wrong around here.

"I don't like this," Baurus said, seemingly voicing Pente's thoughts. "Something's strange..." Drawing his Akaviri katana, he peered around the corner. Nothing seemed to be there, but... "Stay alert, okay?"

"Y-yes," whispered Pente. She took hold of her own blade and followed Baurus down the deserted hallways, flinching every time that a shadow flickered. _H-how come this is scarier than, say, spying on the Mythic Dawn? This is silly. Totally irrational. There's nothing to be afraid of. Baurus is here, and --_

"M-Mother Mara! _Skeleton!_" Pente shrieked, pointing at the heavily armoured being that was making its way towards them at an alarmingly fast rate. Baurus ran to meet it, his sword glinting in the darkness, and Pente breathed a sigh of relief. Who knew skeletons were so fast?! Thank the Nine that he was here to help her with the...

The...

"_Skeleton!_" she screamed again, noticing the one that had crept up behind her just in time. She dodged out of the way and flailed desperately, striking the creature with her katana. There was a loud, horribly final-sounding clang as her blade smashed against the skeleton's armour...

...and broke. Pente gaped in stupefied horror at the broken hilt still grasped in her hand. _Impossible. How... But... Why ME?!_

"Baurus!" she wailed, backing up against a wall. The clashing sounds from further down the corridor suggested that the Redguard was still busy with his own opponent, and Pente whimpered as she glanced around helplessly for a replacement weapon. Somehow, she wasn't too surprised to find that there weren't any random sharp objects just lying on the floor. As the skeleton lunged, Pente threw up her hands --

And suddenly, a warm tingling rush of energy left her palms, pelting the skeleton in the chest. It staggered backwards, giving Pente the opportunity to get out of the way. Despite her fear, she couldn't help but be excited - was that _magic_? What had she done? A fireball, perhaps, or a frost spell like one of Martin's?

She looked back at her opponent, then frowned in confusion. Wait... _Why is the skeleton NAKED?_

With a yelp of fear, Pente sprinted away as fast as she could as the disgruntled skeleton stumbled along behind her. _ Great. Fantastic. I manage to pull off magic without even meaning to, and it has to be something completely useless like Stark Reality!_

_...Oh well. At least this time, I'm not half-naked._

* * *

Martin peered cautiously into the Great Hall. _No. Nobody there._ It seemed like Aranwen and Jauffre had taken their..._ business_ elsewhere. Trying not to dwell on the mental images, he ushered Narina and Styrbrand into the room. The countess took a seat, waving a hand at her escort. 

"Thankyou. You're dismissed until I need to return to Bruma."

Styrbrand's shoulders slumped in disappointment. Martin offered a suggestion. "There's a training area over that way. if you wish to make use of it. Or sometimes some of the Blades like to spar out in the courtyard, if you would prefer that."

"Excellent!" Styrbrand beamed, brightening up considerably. He strode off in the direction of the armoury, an enthusiastic smile lighting up his face. Martin privately thought that if the Nord could have _skipped_ to the training area in his heavy armour, then he would have done. Narina cleared her throat, and clasped her hands together.

"So. To business. I must say, I'm not very happy about --"

"Excuse me," Martin interrupted, apologetically, "Shouldn't you take off your cloak and let it dry? You look half-frozen."

"Oh." Narina blinked, surprised. "Well, um, yes. I am rather cold." She removed the sodden cloak, shivering.

"Better?" asked Martin. Narina nodded, and Martin's eyes fell on a bottle that had been left out on the table. He picked it up, and looked at the label. _Rotmeth? Must be Aranwen's. _"Do you like Rotmeth? I have heard that it's very useful for warming people up. Apparently." He seemed to remember Aranwen saying something of the sort earlier. Of course, this had been accompanied by one of those winks of hers, but... Well, what was the worst that could happen?

"I... don't believe I've tried it," Narina confessed, allowing the priest to pour a glass for her. This was _so_ strange. She had arrived expecting an argument, perhaps some kind of reserved hostility, but was instead being served drinks by a priest claiming to be the son of Uriel Septim. This trip was definitely not turning out as expected. Sipping the Rotmeth hesitantly, the Countess coughed. _Wow_. "It's very, um..."

"Different?" Martin suggested, spluttering. "But, ah, not without its charm, I suppose." He took another careful sip, only to start coughing again. Narina laughed, bringing her own glass back to her lips.

No, Martin Septim was definitely _not_ what she had been expecting. Not at _all_.

* * *

"Th-thankyou!" Pente gasped, looking up at Baurus gratefully. He had quickly disposed of the unarmoured skeleton for her, but he seemed very concerned at the loss of her katana. Pente didn't understand why he was so bothered - it wasn't like she was any good at actually using the bloody thing. Baurus took the broken hilt from her and examined it carefully. 

"By Talos... You must've hit that thing really hard to do so much damage." Baurus shook his head in impressed disbelief. "I don't think I've ever seen anything like it. You..." He looked at her, suspiciously. Pente gulped. "You _did_ make sure it was fully repaired before we left, right?"

_Oh, bugger._

"O-of course! That's, um, the kind of basic weapon care that everyone knows about!" Pente smiled, her eyes overly wide and cheerful. "Of course I wouldn't forget. That'd be like f-forgetting my own head or something. H-haha, so silly. Who'd forget something like that?"

"Nobody in their right mind," grinned Baurus. "We'll just have to keep a lookout for a temporary weapon for you until we get back, I guess. Until then, just stick close to me. No sense in getting yourself killed."

Pente nodded. "Okay." Once again, Baurus had proved that he had the best ideas possible. Together, they walked into the next area of Sancre Tor. The corridors opened out into a large circular hall that contained several exits. Baurus surveyed the room, critically. There didn't seem to be any indicators for which door was the correct one...

"Why don't we just look through each door in turn? Just a glance, to see what's there," Pente suggested, helpfully. "It c-can't hurt, right?"

_Unless the doors explode._

_Or are trapped with deadly poison darts._

_Or have magical handles that bite off the hands of scared little Bosmers._

"Sounds good," Baurus said, approaching one of the doors. Pente chose a different one, opening it hesitantly and looking into the gloom beyond. _Nope - nothing._ She moved on to the next door, then the next...

"Ah! I found it!" Pente squeaked, excitedly. There it was - upon opening the door, Tiber Septim's armour lay in plain sight at the end of the corridor. There didn't even seem to be anything guarding it! Pente clapped her hands in delight - _perfect_! She scurried towards the shining relic, happy to be useful at last. Something still felt strange - the chills down her spine seemed to have intensified - but at least now they would be able to get out of here. The Bosmer smiled happily as she approached the armour.

_Gosh, it's c-cold in here. _

_Really _very _ cold, in fact. K-kind of painfully cold, even._

_Wait, that _r-really_ hurts. What the --?!_

_Oh, gods!_ Pente looked down at her arms in horror as icicles crept all the way up them, all the way up towards her shoulders. _A frost enchantment?_ She thought, hazily, before abandoning the armour and turning back towards the way she had entered the room. She ran as fast as she could, squeaking with fear as she struggled to move her rapidly stiffening limbs, so close to the exit...

Pente lost the battle with her frozen legs and collapsed to the ground, only a few feet away from safety. _Great_, she thought as Baurus ran towards her, _I bet I look totally r-ridiculous now _--

That was her last thought before the little Bosmer blacked out, her face literally frozen in an expression of the utmost irritation.

* * *

**Notes:** Hee, more gushing at Pheonicia goes here, because 90 of this chapter was her idea. Seriously. Without her help this chapter would be "Meh Ayleidon 13: Pente and Baurus Stand Around Doing Sod All. With Cake". 


	14. Chapter 14: Martin is a Lovely

That _infernal_ knocking was driving him mad.

"Oh, for Dagon's sake." Harrow clenched his teeth and drummed his fingers against the slab of polished stone he had been using as a desk. Apparently, his brethren couldn't take the hint that he just wanted to be left alone. He had a terrible headache and really was _not_ in the mood for anything except rest at the moment. "_What_?" he snapped, his voice dripping with annoyance.

"Dawn is breaking, Brother Harrow, sir! News!"

"_Wonderful._" It was the irritating Breton again. Ernand, or Ernard... Eduard, perhaps? Harrow didn't care. 'Irritating Breton' fit better, anyway. His little snippets of news _never _ seemed to be good ones. The Dunmer sighed wretchedly, rubbing his forehead - he was beginning to understand why Ruma and Raven had been so irritable all the time.

Well, before they got splattered and stabbed, respectively. Harrow imagined that it would be rather difficult to be bad-tempered in Paradise. Could people get headaches there...?

The Breton cleared his throat, nervously. "The preparations for the Gates are ready, brother. Uh, sir. Our agents in all the major cities have reported that they are prepared at any time, and will proceed upon your word."

"Excellent." This was surprisingly good news! Harrow felt better already. "Thankyou. Any more information about the Septim Heir's little lapdog?"

"He has a dog, sir?"

And there was the headache again. "The girl. Pente." He paused. "It's a _metaphor_."

"Oh. Nothing much. No sightings of her after Leyawiin."

"Alright. You're dismissed." Harrow waved the Breton away, scowling. "That means go away." _Stupid fetcher._ Glumly, the Dark Elf closed his eyes in an attempt to block out the pain building in his temples. He was going to have to contact Mankar. _Something to look forward to_, he thought, sourly. _Ooh, maybe he'll rant at me enough so that I fall asleep. That would be wonderful! Bah.  
_

Harrow let out a pained little groan. Maybe being in charge of a Daedric cult wasn't all it was cracked up to be, after all...

* * *

_Warm._

_Warm feels nice. I like warm. Good things are warm, like sunny days and sitting by the fire and fresh cake and... whatever this is. I like it; it's warm. Not like cold things. Cold things are horrible._

_Wasn't I cold just before...?_

Pente's eyes snapped open as she remembered what had happened. The armour, running through the door, the ice that had prickled and stung as it covered her flesh... But she was alright now, safe and warm and... and _cuddled?_

She emitted a tiny, shocked squeak as she realised that the warmth surrounding her was caused by Baurus, who was holding her close in what could only be described as a _hug_.

_Oh m-my._

"Oh, you're awake?" Baurus breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Thank Talos. Don't scare me like that."

"I..." Responding was proving difficult. It was hard for Pente to form complete sentences when her mind was currently running along the lines of '_hug eep oh my hugging gosh what now it's a hug I'm being hugged'_. She blinked a few times to clear her thoughts. "S-sorry."

"How're you feeling? All warmed up? Any pain anywhere? You hit the floor pretty hard," Baurus said, with concern. "Not that I know any spells to fix you up with. That's why I thought it'd be safer to warm you up this way. If I used magic, you'd end up with your hair burned off."

"Oh." Pente really wished that she could remember how words were supposed to work. "Still cold," she said, hopefully. Baurus laughed, and held her more tightly. A happy sigh escaped Pente's lips - this was nice. Purely for warming purposes, obviously. She felt like she could stay this way forever, if it wasn't for --

"AGH!" she screamed, pulling away and pointing wildly. _Another bloody skeleton!_ Instinct took over and she shot a blast of Stark Reality at the figure, divesting it of its armour. Baurus took advantage of the skeleton's confusion and knocked its head off with one swift swipe of his katana, the bones clattering horribly as they hit the floor. Pente sighed, shakily. _Ph-phew._

"Good reflexes," the Redguard panted. "That was too close. Good thing you were here!" It seemed to have escaped his notice that Pente was the reason he hadn't seen the skeleton in the first place, but Pente was too distracted to bring that to his attention. Raising a shaking finger, she pointed over Baurus' shoulder.

He turned around only to find himself face-to-face with a ghost. Uttering a cry of shock, Baurus attacked the spirit with his blade. The ghost barely reacted, simply looking mournfully down at the floor.

"That wasn't very nice." The glowing figure sniffed, looking at Pente and Baurus with sad, accusing eyes. "Rather rude, actually. I just wanted to say thankyou, and what do I get? Attempted murder. If you can murder someone who's already dead, that is." The ghost tilted his head to one side, examining Baurus. "That's a very nice sword you have, though. Mine was a lot like that."

"You... what..." Baurus gaped, and turned to Pente for support. "Um..."

"G-g-ghost," Pente said, helpfully.

"Oh, yes. Very observant. Remind me to rub it in when _you two_ die, too." The ghost folded his arms dramatically. "If you hadn't freed me from the Underking's curse, I'd be quite upset." He softened, slightly. "Thankyou for that, brother Blade. I'm Alain."

"You were a Blade too?" Baurus asked. It was an unbelievably creepy feeling to be speaking to a dead person so casually, but he had no choice. Pente certainly didn't seem to be up to anything even approaching conversation.

"G-ghost," she whispered, confirming Baurus' thoughts.

He turned back to Alain. "Uh, so... Do you know how we're supposed to get the armour of Tiber Septim?" Baurus motioned towards the corridor where the armour lay. "My friend kind of got caught by the magic trap business in there..."

"Oh. That." Alain emitted a ghostly sigh. "More of the Underking's work... If you can free my friends, I'm sure we could do something. There were four of us, altogether. We all got cursed. It's a very sad story, would you like to hear it?"

"I don't think we have time," Baurus said, hastily. "We'll go help your friends. C'mon, Pente."

"_Ghost_," she whimpered, scurrying after the Redguard as quickly as she could.

* * *

Aranwen fluffed her hair carefully, her face displaying a satisfied little smile. _Perfect!_ She turned to Jauffre and giggled. "Oops. Looks like I left my mark, sweetie!" She lifted her hand and wiped away a red smear of lipstick from his face. "There."

"Quite," Jauffre croaked. "Indeed."

"Come, dear. I left our Rotmeth out in the hall. You should taste some... It's _very_ good," she purred. Jauffre gulped, and Aranwen led the way towards the Great Hall, humming a happy little tune. As they passed by the armoury, a figure emerged from the doorway. Aranwen gasped, stopping dead in her tracks. "Oh! Who are _you_?"

"Hmm?" The muscular Nord blinked, then smiled proudly. "Oh! I am Styrbrand, the Unbelievably Mighty! Touched by Destiny! Marked for greatness! Chosen by the Nine --"

"Styrbrand?" Jauffre asked, confused. "What are you doing here? Why? Who let you in? This is most unusual --"

"Oooh, you know him?" Aranwen trilled. "What's the story there, dear? He seems like a _fine_ young man." She patted Jauffre's arm reassuringly. "Not at all my type, of course. I prefer someone with more... _experience_."

Jauffre managed to restrain himself. "Ah, um, yes. Quite. So, Styrbrand, why have you, uhm..." he paused. "...Graced us with your presence?"

"Um." Styrbrand pouted. Why was it that nobody ever let him finish his introductions anymore? And why wasn't Jauffre pleased to see him? That Bosmer had promised to put in a good word for him! She'd _promised!_ "I came from Bruma. With the Countess. Uh, that girl said she'd ask you if I could --"

"The Countess?!" Jauffre yelped. "Countess Narina Carvain? Here? Where is she?"

The Nord shrugged, sulkily. "In the big room with Brother Martin."

"Why was I not informed of this?" fumed Jauffre, storming out. There was a short silence as Aranwen ran a critical eye over Styrbrand. _Hmm. He'll do.  
_

"Darling. You came from Bruma? When you go back there, would you mind sending this message for me?" She fished a handwritten list from the pocket of her dress and batted her eyelashes, hopefully. "It's a clothing order that I need to get delivered. Very important. I was going to ask one of the Blades to do it, but as you're such a big, strong, _powerful _ man, I'm sure it'll be no problem for you, dear!"

Styrbrand sagged, despite the flattery. Why was it that the only people who ever paid any attention to him were crazy _Bosmers?_

* * *

..."And then he said, 'but brother - I'm afraid that's my _wife!'_" Martin explained. Narina burst out laughing.

"Goodness! I never thought the life of a priest could be so interesting!" She drained her latest glass of Rotmeth, smiling. How many had they had, now...? No matter. Gosh, it _was_ good for warming you up, though! "Ahh. You're a lot more than you appear to be, aren't you, Martin Septim?"

"That's nothing. It pales into insignificance compared with tales about the place I used to hide away my valuables while I was in the chapel --"

"My lady!" Jauffre burst into the room, bowing his head in apology. "I was not informed of your arrival! I assure you, had I been told that you were coming, I would have arranged for a more hospitable welcome."

"Oh, Jauffre!" Narina got to her feet. "I am _very_ mad with you. Very mad indeed. You've been a very bad..." she paused, thoughtfully. "...A very bad Jauffre."

The Grandmaster's eye twitched. "My lady?"

"Yes," Narina said, firmly. She wished Jauffre would stop swaying like that - it made it very difficult to concentrate. "Why didn't you tell me about these Mythic Dawn people, hmm? And you kept Martin a secret, too! Why did you do that? Martin is a _lovely_," she beamed.

"I certainly am," added Martin, smiling widely. "A _lovely_ lovely." He dissolved into undignified laughter, apparently finding the situation hilarious. Narina seemed to agree.

"Ah, yes. Yes, you are." Jauffre shook with silent horror. The future Emperor of Tamriel and the Countess of Bruma appeared to be _drunk_. This was _not_ good.

* * *

"There's another one!" Baurus yelled. "Go!"

"O-okay!" Pente squeaked, aiming her Stark Reality spell at another skeletal Blade. As it reeled from the impact, Baurus charged forward to attack. With a satisfying clash of metal on bone, the skeleton collapsed to the ground and released the spirit trapped within. Pente cheered - this was _easy!_ It was so refreshing to not be struggling for once. The ghosts didn't even seem _too_ scary, anymore!

Well, as long as she stayed hidden behind Baurus. But still, it was a remarkable improvement!

"That's the last one, right?" grinned Baurus, sheathing his katana. "We make a great team!"

"I know!" Pente enthused. "I m-mean, I didn't do much, but you were really good."

"You were the one who made it so easy! That spell seems like a neat trick to know," said Baurus, starting to walk back towards the circular room. "What's not to like about a spell that removes peoples' clothes? You'll have to teach me it sometime..."

"You don't need it!" Pente chirped, oblivious as ever. "Not with weapon skills like yours!"

Baurus' mouth twisted into an amused smirk. "Yeah, I've been told I'm _really_ good at using a sword."

"I can tell! You should teach me," she replied, smiling shyly. "I m-mean, I could always stand to learn new things."

"Hey, I just might take you up on that!" Baurus laughed, raising his eyebrows. Pente blinked, confused - what was so funny?

"Oh. Hello again..." Alain, the first ghost, waved a spectral hand. "You did it. Well done, I suppose..." He trailed off, glumly. "We'll just go and make it safe for you to get the armour. No no, don't worry about us... We can't get hurt. You know, being dead..."

"S-sorry," said Pente, shivering.

"Not a problem, Blademaiden," Alain replied, drifting slowly towards the room containing the armour. "It'll be nice to finally get some rest..."

A glowing light spread throughout the room as the ghostly Blades began to work against the Underking's frost enchantment. Pente turned to Baurus. "It must be _so_ depressing being dead," she whispered, fervently.

"Let's try and avoid finding out for sure, then." Baurus walked over to pick up the armour. "Come on. It's time we got back to Cloud Ruler."

* * *

"What's going on?" asked Aranwen, suspiciously. She had finished talking with Styrbrand, and was not happy at what she had found in the Great Hall. Not one bit.

She fumed, glaring around the room. _A woman! Talking with _my _Jauffre! And _Pente's_ Martin! Drinking _my_ Rotmeth! I bet the hussy couldn't even appreciate it, leaf-eater that she is. Silly woman. What's she doing here?!  
_

Jauffre sighed. "Narina, Aranwen. Aranwen, this is Narina, Countess of Bruma. She was just about to give me some rather important information, so if you wouldn't mind --"

"And getting this information involves plying her with _my_ Rotmeth?" the Bosmer interrupted, snatching the bottle from the table. _Empty._ She scowled at Narina with intense dislike.

"Sorry. My fault," Martin apologised. "You were correct, though. 'S very good."

Jauffre held his head in his hands, his muffled voice tinged with despair. "Countess. You mentioned a note?"

"Oh, yes!" Narina passed Jauffre the scrap of parchment that detailed Jearl's orders. "There you go!"

"There, all done. Now, shouldn't you be leaving?" Aranwen snapped. "It's getting rather late."

"Ohh..." Narina sighed. "But I didn't get to see any of the things Martin was telling me about! The library, the architecture, the armoury... I'm _very _ interested in Akaviri weapons," she explained, smiling brightly. Martin let out a very un-Emperor-like cackle.

"Styrbrand!" Jauffre called, desperately, a pained expression on his face. It was _definitely_ time to end the meeting before things got out of hand.

"I suppose I'm leaving, then..." Narina sighed. "Pity. The castle can get so _boring_."

"You should come and visit!" Martin suggested. "Then you can see the... the things I told you about. All those." He waved his arm, grandly.

"I'll do that!" Narina beamed, wandering unsteadily towards the doors, where Styrbrand was waiting for her. "I shall see you... see you sometime... later. Yes!"

Martin waved, happily. "Farewell!"

"Where's Penny?" Aranwen asked, as soon as Narina was out of the doors. If Martin was tipsy from the Rotmeth, she may as well make use of it. A few well-placed words from Pente, a little flirting...

Jauffre scratched his head. "Yes, where is she? And where is Baurus?" He scowled, slightly. "If they've run off without informing anyone again, they shall have to be disciplined."

Aranwen squealed. "Ooh, darling! That sounds --"

"AHEM. Ah, Martin. Do you know where they are?" Jauffre asked, desperately trying to ignore Aranwen's cooing in his ear. Martin put a thoughtful finger to his lips.

"Oh, yes. That place you mentioned. Sancre Tor." Martin smiled. "They went to get the ancestor. Ah, armour. My ancestor's armour. Something like that. Very, very important."

"What?!" Jauffre gasped. "They went to Sancre Tor? On their own?"

"Yes."

"Sancre Tor? The place nobody has come back from alive for _years_?"

"I think that's the one. You know it, then?"

* * *

It was getting dark. What's more, it was snowing. Again. Pente sighed as she walked up the mountain, dreaming of a day that she would return to Cloud Ruler from one of her adventures and find that she _wasn't_ getting snowed on.

_Ooh, it'll be s-so nice. And it has to happen at some point! It'll probably be the same day that I manage to go somewhere without getting scared out of my wits. And my arrival back at the temple will be heralded with mountains of cake, a soft bed, and the news that my mother has converted to not-being-insane-ism._

_A girl can dream, damn it._

"Cold?" Baurus asked, sympathetically. "It's really not been your day, has it? First your weapon breaks and almost gets you killed, then you get frozen, scared by ghosts, soaked with snow..."

"Y-yep." Pente chose not to mention that all this was pretty much escaping unscathed, as far as she was concerned. "H-horrible."

"Don't worry. You'll feel better when we get back." The Redguard winked. "I'll help you make another cake, or something."

"We can't." She sounded more depressed than ever. "My mother, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. We can't let her know you're a bad, cake-eating little heathen." He launched into a remarkably accurate impression of Aranwen, pursing his lips and wagging his finger bossily. "_CAKE_? Now, darling dearie Pennyface, you know how I feel about _leaves_. This is barbaric! Couldn't you at least put some of the flesh of your enemies into the mixture? Honestly. Such a disappointment."

Pente's eyes widened in horror, and she stopped walking. "D-don't do that!"

"What?"

"That! Act like my mother! Do you know j-just how disturbing that is?!"

"Judging by your expression..." Baurus stroked his chin, surveying Pente critically. "A seven out of ten on the disturbingness scale."

"I'd say eight." Pente shook her head. "It's like if I decided to imitate Jauffre, or something. S-so wrong."

"Go on, then."

Pente blinked. "What?"

"Act like Jauffre. I dare you."

"You dare me?" Pente tilted her head to one side, bemused. Well, what was the harm? She stood on tiptoe and assumed a grumpy expression, hands on her hips. "Uh, um. I am Jauffre!" she said lamely, deepening her voice as much as she could. "Don't do this! Don't do that! Uh... Talos' toenails! Clean up this mess!"

Without warning, Baurus leaped forward, tackling Pente into the snow. He once again imitated Aranwen's voice as the wriggling Bosmer shrieked and struggled furiously. "Oh, Jauffrecuddlekins! You know I can't resist when you talk like that!"

"What i-in Oblivion are y-- Get OFF!" Pente screeched, her voice returned to its usual squeaky pitch.

Baurus hugged Pente tight, cackling. "Oh, you know that it's so cute when you struggle, darling dearest!"

"Stop it!"

"You can't resist!"

"Stop, you're getting snow in my..."

She fell silent as Baurus' lips pressed gently against her own. Her mind was wiped blank, focused only on that small point of contact. She even forgot about the _snow_.

Baurus pulled away, that infuriating smile back on his face. "Told you."

Pente squeaked. Baurus wasn't surprised.

* * *

**Notes:** Insert massive soppy grin here. Bwahaha! 


	15. Chapter 15: More Benefits of Hiding

_Make it stop._

Martin emitted a muffled groan as he tried, and failed, to get up. It was no good. He had experienced more painful hangovers than this during his time worshipping Sanguine, but... Ugh. He felt incredibly nauseated, his head was clouded and fuzzy, and he felt as weak as a mudcrab. Moaning weakly, he internally promised himself that he would never, _ever _ resort to drinking Rotmeth ever again.

Gods, he'd give anything for a drink of water. His throat was so dry... There was also an irritating sound just on the edge of his hearing range. Martin tried to concentrate on it as the noise increased in intensity. _Were those voices...?  
_

"Come on, dear, hurry up."

"L-look, I'm not going to --"

"You'd leave him in there to _suffer,_ darling? I'm so _ashamed_. Really. This is _not_ the kind of behaviour I'd expect from you. Go. Now. Listen to your mother."

"B-but I-- EEK!"

Martin flinched at the high-pitched noise, and watched through half-closed eyes as Pente was shoved into his room, apparently with considerable force. She stumbled clumsily, struggling to keep hold of the bottles that she was carrying, and Martin noticed a flash of auburn just before the doors closed again - Aranwen had apparently been the one doing the pushing. This couldn't possibly be good. He closed his eyes fully in the hopes that Pente would just go away and leave him to be miserable by himself.

_No such luck_. "Are y-you alright?" Pente asked, softly. "Mother said you shared a whole bottle of Rotmeth with someone, so you must be feeling pretty bad." Her mother's exact wording had featured the words 'got drunk with some brazen harlot', but Pente didn't really think that was appropriate. "I brought you some water and a couple of potions. You should drink those quickly."

Martin gratefully took the offered bottles and gulped down one of the potions. "My thanks," he said, smiling weakly. He hoped she was done, now - after what he had been told about the Bosmer possibly having romantic inclinations towards him, Martin wasn't very keen on being alone in his bedroom with her. _Not that she seems like the type to pounce on me... But she also hardly seems like the kind of person to single-handedly close an Oblivion Gate. Why isn't she leaving? She's done what she came for. Where's Jauffre when I need him?_

Martin grew paler. _Not in _that_ way. U-ugh._

Pente shuffled her feet, clearly agitated. "U-um. Can I just ask you, uh... For a favour?"

_No!_ Martin thought, desperately. "Ah... like what?"

"O-oh dear..." Pente squirmed uncomfortably. "Um, my mother told me that I had to, u-um..." She paused, gathering her courage, before ending her sentence in a whisper. "_...Flirt_ with you." She cringed, blushing furiously. "So if she asks..."

"Ah. Yes. If she mentions anything, I shall be sure to inform her that you were being very forward and brazen. Will that suffice?" Martin smiled, relieved. If she was uncomfortable with the idea, then surely she couldn't have any intentions concerning him. _Thank the Nine._ Martin had missed being able to talk to Pente without watching his every word.

"Thankyou!" she said, smiling in relief. "Do you need anything else?"

"No, thankyou. Just some rest. I doubt I shall be able to study any more of the Mysterium Xarxes today." Martin frowned. "I shall be more careful in future. I should not have allowed myself to get carried away like that --"

"Rotmeth is f-funny stuff," Pente interrupted. "Kind of addictive in its own way. You don't tend to realise how much you're drinking. So it's not your fault!" She paused. "And at least the after-effects aren't painful. Or they aren't _supposed_ to be. _Are _ they?" she asked, curiously. Martin groaned, only half-listening.

"Narina must be feeling as bad as I do. Argh, by the Nine..." Martin screwed up his eyes as memories from the day before started trickling back. _Oh, gods._ He had told the Countess the story about the Argonian barman and his wife, hadn't he...?

"Who's Narina?"

"The Countess of Bruma. She came to give us some information yesterday, and... well --"

"Oh! Right!" Pente cried. "The harlot!"

Martin choked on a gulp of water. "What?!" he spluttered, coughing, "What did you just --"

"No, no!" Pente squeaked, flushing. "No, that's what m-mother called her, and... Um. S-sorry. Of course she's not a harlot. U-um, carry on."

Trying to resist the urge to laugh, Martin uncorked the second potion that Pente had given him, and took a gulp. "I see. She brought Styrbrand with her, by the way. Remember him?"

"Of course!" mumbled Pente. "Was he, um, okay? It's a p-pity we missed him. I, uh, hope he wasn't too upset about not being able to say hi and, um..."

"Oh!" Martin sat upright. "How did things progress at Sancre Tor?" Jauffre's words about the dangers of the place came back to him, and he lowered his head guiltily. "I must apologise. I was not aware of how dangerous it would be."

"It's okay. Me and Baurus are both fine, and we managed to get the armour!" Pente beamed. "Everything worked out perfectly. _Really_ perfect."

"Thank the Nine," Martin sighed. She looked so happy - he couldn't imagine why heading straight into danger would result in such a huge, soppy grin. Battle-hungry warrior types like her were just so _odd_. "Congratulations on your achievements! I assure you, they don't go unappreciated."

"Hehe. Thankyou," Pente smiled. "Anyway, I'd better go and tell Jauffre that you're still alive!" She walked towards the doorway and smiled. "Try and get some rest. Your head should clear up soon, at least." She closed the door behind her as quietly as she could. _Poor Martin_, she thought as she tip-toed down the corridor. _He really does look miserable. I'll have to make sure everyone keeps quiet and doesn't disturb him --_

Pente let out a high-pitched yelp as a door opened up next to her and someone dragged her inside. Shocked and frightened, she looked up with fearful eyes as the door closed behind her.

_Oh._

She visibly relaxed as she saw who it was that had grabbed her. _Baurus. Who else?_ She took in her surroundings with an air of trepidation - they seemed to be in Jauffre's private quarters. "Wh-what are you doing?" she hissed. "We aren't allowed in here --"

She was quickly silenced as Baurus leaned down to kiss her. Which was all well and good, she thought, her stomach fluttering in a rather pleasant manner, but they were in _Jauffre's bloody room._ Hardly the most romantic of places. Or the most discreet.

They parted, Pente blushing furiously as she looked furtively around the room. "What are you _doing?!_" she repeated. "We c-could get caught!"

"And?" Baurus teasingly kissed her again. The Bosmer whimpered - this was really _very_ distracting.

"I've already -- _mff_ -- told you. If my mother thinks that you're getting in the way of -- _m-mmm _-- romance between her daughter and the Emperor, she'll kill you." Pente squirmed slightly as Baurus kissed a rather sensitive spot on her jaw. "P-possibly literally. O-oh, that's --"

The sliding door opened suddenly to reveal Jauffre and Aranwen, who both looked _extremely_ confused to find the two Blades in the Breton's room. Particularly as Pente was backed up against a wall, squeaking. She made a tiny embarrassed noise and quietly hoped that her death would at least come quickly.

..."And then, while you've got them against the wall, you can just stab them at your leisure. Easy," Baurus said, casually. "Oh, hey, you two." He nodded at Aranwen and Jauffre, who had still not made a sound. "I was just teaching Pente one of my best moves. She taught me some of hers earlier, so I just thought I should repay the favour."

Jauffre narrowed his eyes. "And you had to do this in my private quarters, because...?"

"You expect me to pass on secret techniques in public?" Baurus asked, trying to look affronted. "I don't share my secret disarming methods with just anyone."

"I see." Jauffre glanced behind him, where Aranwen was prodding his back insistantly. "Oh. Well, then, would you mind going elsewhere? Aranwen and I have to... discuss strategy."

Aranwen giggled. "Discuss strategy? So that's what you call it around here? Back in Valenwood we used to call it --"

Pente fled before things could get any more traumatising, with Baurus hot on her heels.

* * *

"Farewell, fair city! Destiny insists that we must part!"

Styrbrand was slightly disappointed that nobody had come to see him off. Upon returning to Bruma yesterday evening, he had made it _very_ clear that he was going to be leaving in the morning. Was it really too much to ask for there to be some fans here to say goodbye? Maybe someone from the Fighters Guild, here to beg him not to go? Legions of beautiful women sobbing at the knowledge that they would no longer be able to gaze upon his manly visage on a daily basis?

_Humph._ The Nord kicked viciously at the ground. No, the only person here was a beggar. A drunken beggar who appeared to think that Styrbrand was a girl. A very _beautiful _ girl, if the slurred pick-up lines were anything to go by, but _still_. Styrbrand's fingers touched the little tuft of hair at the base of his chin - maybe a full beard was in order. A manly one. It would obscure some of his dazzlingly masculine and gorgeous features, of course, but at least it should stop crazy old drunks offering to share their bedrolls with him.

Well, some of them.

Scowling, he opened Bruma's eastern gate and began to walk along the path away from the city. The people of Bruma just didn't seem to appreciate heroes. It would be nice to go somewhere where he could be recognised for who he was - the mightiest, most glorious, handsome warrior in all Tamriel! Instead of being put in the shade by lesser warriors. Or ignored by the Blades. Or acting as courier for a bloody _Bosmer._

Oh, how he _hated_ Bosmers.

He would go to Anvil, he decided. Yes, that seemed like the kind of place that would suit him. It was supposed to be a place that valued the _important_ things in life - beating things up, fame, glory, seedy bars, and impressing pretty women in the aforementioned bars. Exactly the kind of thing that Styrbrand had been missing out on.

"Excuse me, sir!"

Styrbrand blinked. A red-robed man - a Breton, if his pale skin was anything to go by - was bowing to him subserviently, looking up in an almost apologetic manner. Well, this was better! He hadn't been away from Bruma for five minutes, and already people were starting to respect his heroism! He puffed up his chest and placed his hands on his hips. "Yes? What do you want? An autograph?"

"No, sir. Directions, sir. You came from Bruma?" the Breton asked, hopefully. Styrbrand nodded.

"Yes. Those robes look familiar..." he muttered, trying to remember where he had seen them before.

"They're just red robes, sir. Nothing spectacular. Nothing to take notice of. I was just wondering, what would be the best way to get near Bruma without being seen by the guards?" The Breton paused. "Just curious."

"Along the south wall. No gates there." Styrbrand nodded, importantly. "A lot of the east wall too, but only if you stay south of the gateway."

"Thankyou, sir!" The Breton ran off, and Styrbrand waved, cheerily. Being called 'sir' was definitely better than being mistaken for a _girl_. He really wished he could put his finger on why those robes seemed familiar, though.

Shrugging, Styrbrand continued along the path. It probably wasn't all that important, anyway.

* * *

Martin was feeling much better. Those potions that Pente had given him had cleared his head considerably, and he was actually feeling rather good. It was amazing what some restful, dreamless sleep could do for a man. It almost felt like Martin had never touched the Rotmeth at all!

Except when the memories came flooding back, anyway. They kept popping into the Imperial's head when he least expected them. His mind kept lingering on one particularly mortifying moment when he had attempted to balance a book on his head. _By the Nine..._ He could only pray that the Countess had not yet recovered that particular memory.

He winced at the thought of Narina - he couldn't have made a very good impression on her. A drunken, bumbling priest. What had he been _thinking_? Martin's face drained of colour as a horrible idea hit him. Gods, what if she thought that he'd been trying to get her drunk on_purpose_?

_Don't think about it. I'll send a letter of apology to smooth things over._ Martin nodded to himself and strode towards the storage room where his alchemy equipment was kept. Maybe his apology would be more well-received if he sent it along with one of those head-clearing potions that Pente had given him. Narina was likely to be feeling awful, after all. Oh, this was such a disaster... Martin opened the doors to the cupboard, carefully. Yes, he'd have to ask Pente for the recipe for those potions --

"OH!"

The Imperial took an involuntary step backwards. Pente and Baurus were standing inside the cramped little room, looking very... _ruffled_. There was a short pause as Martin struggled to take in the situation. "What are you two..."

"Um, um, thank _goodness_!" Pente cried, dramatically. She scurried out of the cupboard, knocking over a broom and sending a bucket flying through the air as she did so. Martin dodged the airborne bucket, grasping for words. Pente continued before he had the chance to voice any of his thoughts. "We, um, g-got trapped in there! Stuck! Imprisoned! Um..." She trailed off, feebly. "We, uh... couldn't get out. Yeah."

"Ah." Martin tried to catch Baurus' eye as the Redguard emerged from the cupboard, but to no avail. The Blade was determinedly not looking at him. "So what were you doing in there to start with...?"

"That... that's a g-good question. Um." Pente mumbled to herself, smoothing her hair as best she could.

"We were looking for this," Baurus said, picking up the broom Pente had knocked over. "Broom. To sweep things with."

"And that took both of you." Martin paused. "With the door closed."

"O-oh, that was because we were _testing _it," Pente babbled. "The cupboard, I mean, haha. Testing it as a hiding place. Because if the Mythic Dawn come here somehow and manage to get past all the Blades, then you'll need to hide and we thought a place like this would probably be a good one, so we thought we'd test it and... and so we did." She chewed her lip, looking at the floor. "Um, don't hide in there. You might, um, get stuck. It failed the test. Not suitable."

"Right," Baurus agreed. "So we'll just go and try to find a better place. See you later!" He grinned, dragging a giggling Pente from the room. Martin shook his head as he retrieved his alchemy equipment. Those two hadn't always been this crazy, had they?

_Perhaps they hit their heads at Sancre Tor, or something. _

* * *

'_Countess,_

_I regret to inform you that I am unable to take your advice in regards to the current situation. I assure you that, contrary to your allegations, my staff is not even in close proximity to my posterior. This means that I am unfortunately unable to remove it from said area; I can only crave your forgiveness on this issue._

_With regards to your concerns regarding the current political situation, I must stress that your feelings have been noted. The Council and myself are currently examining several possible options...'_

Narina put the letter down, her head spinning. It was no good. She couldn't deal with Ocato's overly verbose missive now, not while she was still feeling the after-effects of the Rotmeth. What was _in_ that stuff? She'd never known anything like it. The hangover was bad enough, but the memories that kept resurfacing in her mind were worse.

Burying her head in her hands, she made a mournful little noise of embarrassment. _Bloody hell._ She distinctly remembered asking Martin to try and balance a book on his head, which was bad in itself... But _gosh_. She had called the heir to the Septim bloodline a _lovely_.

_A lovely._ She couldn't help but cringe at the thought. This was disastrous! Narina was fully aware of how she was perceived throughout Tamriel - she had a reputation for being stubborn, a cunning negotiator... Some even said scheming. That was tolerable. Being known as "the one who called Emperor Martin a _lovely_" would most certainly _not_ be. She was going to have to send him some kind of apology, of course, and going back to visit him again was out of the question if she wanted to preserve any dignity whatsoever...

Which was a pity, because from what she could remember, Martin really _was_ a lovely.

"Countess! Countess!"

Narina got to her feet, rather unsteadily. Tolgan and Captain Burd burst into the room, the latter looking rather frantic. Narina tried to look as regal and imperious as she could, which was rather difficult while her head felt like it was filled with cotton wool. "What is the meaning of this? Tolgan, I _specifically_ said that I didn't want any visitors!"

"I know, Milady, but the Captain --"

"Countess!" Captain Burd interrupted, desperately. He looked a mess - he was gasping for breath, and Narina couldn't remember seeing her guard captain look _frightened _ before. "Oblivion Gate - Daedra, outside the city walls..." he wheezed.

Narina's indignant air vanished immediately, replaced instead with a look of utmost horror. "Truly? Alright. Hurry back and concentrate on the defense of the city. They mustn't breach the walls. Tolgan - get a message to Cloud Ruler Temple at once! Spare no expense!"

She took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to control the panic rising within her. Suddenly, the previous day's embarrassments didn't seem quite so important.

* * *

Baurus and Pente had finally found a good hiding spot. Alone at last! Well... almost. While technically they weren't _alone,_ it was still an improvement over hiding in cupboards and corners.

Pente really wished that the horses would stop _staring_ at her, though. They made any attempts at kissing feel a lot more creepy. But still, the stables seemed to be the safest place they'd found all day. She couldn't complain, really --

"Did you hear that?" Baurus whispered, suddenly. Pente shook her head.

"What?"

"_That._" Baurus groaned. "Someone's calling."

"Do we _have_ to answer?" Pente pleaded.

"I kind of think we should."

Sighing, Pente nodded. She could hear the shouting herself now - it sounded like Jauffre. Panicking. This couldn't be good. Together, they rushed out of the stables and almost ran straight into the Breton.

"There you are! Thank the Nine!" Jauffre massaged his forehead, his face worried and tense. "We just got a message from Bruma. An Oblivion Gate has opened, and they're requesting immediate assistance from the Hero of Kvatch."

Pente's eyes widened in an expression of purest terror. "M-me?"

"Unless you know any other Gate-closing heroes around here, then I would assume so. Hurry! The Gate is near the southeast of the city walls!" Jauffre cried, pointing. "Go! There's very little time!"

"I'll come too," Baurus offered, grimly, dashing towards the Temple gates. "Come on, run faster!"

Pente scurried along behind him, her heart in her mouth. She was beginning to spot a definite relationship between her having wonderful days and Oblivion Gates spewing Daedra soon afterwards. Mehrunes Dagon had the _worst_ timing.


	16. Chapter 16: Gate to Disaster

Baurus gulped in an uncharacteristically nervous manner. "So this is an Oblivion Gate?"

"Y-yep." Pente was trying her best not to look at it - difficult, seeing as it was a huge seething portal of fire that tended to draw the attention of all around it. This kind of made it very hard to ignore. She was bloody well going to try, though. Hopefully that would stop her wanting to throw up. _Hopefully_.

"You! You're the Hero of Kvatch?" A Nord soldier called, breaking off from the little group of guards by the portal and rushing towards them. It was unclear which of the two he was addressing. Still staring at the Gate, Baurus silently pointed towards Pente. She cleared her throat nervously.

"Sort of. Yes. That's what s-some people call me, I suppose. I prefer Pente, though. Call me Pente. That's my name. So th-that's what I like to be called. Pente. That's me." She pointed at herself, smiling in a slightly unhinged way. "Pente."

"He _gets_ it," Baurus whispered, finally tearing his eyes from the flaming gateway. He pulled a small package from his bag, opened it, and started handing out the amulets he had retrieved from Leyawiin to the soldiers. "Uh, here. Everyone needs one of these!"

The Nord took one and put it on, casting an apprehensive eye over Pente. "Well, uh, I'm Captain Burd of the Bruma Guard. Pleased to meet you, ma'am." He offered his hand for her to shake, but she merely gave it a nervous little pat, her face still frozen in that odd grin. "Uh, yes. We'll be going in that thing with you. We've got to know how to close them ourselves if we want to be able to defend Bruma properly. We don't want to be crying to you for aid every five minutes." Burd rubbed his hands together in a tense little gesture and glanced back at the Gate. "Me and the men can take care of ourselves, so don't worry about that. We just need you to show us what to do."

_O-oh, thank the Nine! Perfect. _Pente clasped her hands in a silent prayer of thanks, then folded her arms and adopted what she hoped was a confident-looking pose. "O-okay. I'll, um, help you guys out. No worries. Not a problem." She glanced over at Baurus, who smiled encouragingly and handed her an amulet. Pente stood a little straighter. "Tell your men that they shouldn't worry!"

"I was hoping _you'd_ tell them, see," Burd replied. "Just a short speech. Inspiring. Motivate the men, reassure 'em - some of them are more scared than they'll admit. I'm sure some rousing words from the Hero of Kvatch would help."

"S-speech?"

"Go on," Baurus said, nudging her shoulder. "It's not about the words, they just want to see you being fearless. Show them there's no need to be scared. Play the hero," he grinned.

_Oh, g-gods. _Pente closed her eyes. "O-oh. Okay, then." She cleared her throat and faced the little group of soldiers. "U-um, everyone?"

They fell silent right away, and stared at her expectantly. Pente started to feel rather nauseous again - she hadn't thought she'd get their attention so soon. Well, there was nothing for it - how hard could a little inspirational speech be, anyway?

_Oh, who am I kidding? This is going to be agonising.  
_

"U-um. Well, uh... Hello. I'm Pente." She licked her lips - why was her mouth so dry all of a sudden? "Um, uh, H-Hero of Kvatch. Or something. And I'll be h-helping you close the Gate. We'll have to, um, go up a big tower and pick up a glowing stone thing... A Sigil Stone," she clarified. "Um... And there's l-lava and Daedra and all that kind of thing. So, um, be careful. We should be okay, though, I hope. Safety in numbers and all that. H-haha?"

This was met with blank stares from the soldiers, and an incredulous cough from Captain Burd. Pente sagged - apparently, she had just joined Martin in the _'My speeches are completely bloody terrible'_ club. She shuffled her feet, self-consciously. "S-so, uh..."

"Let's go take down those Daedra scum!" Baurus interrupted, enthusiastically. Pente nodded thankfully, and the soldiers let out a half-hearted cheer. Apparently, a bloodthirsty attitude worked best - Pente filed the information away for later use, and Burd raised his arm.

"Come on! Let's go!" Turning to Pente, he gestured at the Gate. "Lead the way, ma'am!"

_Do I have to?_ Pente screwed up her eyes and scurried towards the portal. _Don't think about it, don't look at it. Just run! At least this way, I won't see what kills me._

* * *

Martin glared at the Mysterium Xarxes. He was half-expecting it to glare back. _Bloody book._ Instead it lay innocuously on the table, looking just as it always did. This offended Martin, somehow. The book had to be _mocking_ him.

His glare intensified.

He just couldn't concentrate. Knowing that Pente and Baurus were out there fighting while he just sat in front of the fire reading... It just made him feel so useless. Feeble. _Cowardly._ A poor little Emperor-to-be, forced to stay safe at home while people go to fight his battles for him...

_No._ Martin shook his head, angrily. _It isn't like that._ He was horribly aware that it could be _perceived_ that way, though, and it bothered the Imperial more than he cared to admit. _He _ had been there when Kvatch was invaded, _he_ had woken to the screams and the burning, _he_ had held off Daedra and aided the townspeople... He was capable, he had proved that. But now he couldn't even leave the temple to stand by the Gate and watch for his friends to return. Jauffre had forbidden it.

Martin ran his fingers through his hair in agitation. He understood why he couldn't go, of course. It made sense. As Jauffre had said, it was too much of a risk. It was completely understandable. That didn't mean that he had to be happy about it though, did it...?

_At least things can't get much worse, _he mused, turning back to the Xarxes. He was starting to have some ideas about what the next item needed for the ritual would be. All the symbols seemed to suggest that --

A horribly familiar voice interrupted Martin's thoughts. "What's wrong, darling?"

Apparently, things _could_ get worse. "It's nothing. I'm finding it a touch difficult to concentrate, that's all." He sighed, heavily. Hopefully Aranwen would take the hint and leave him alone.

"Oh, _darling_!" she breathed, emotionally. "I know what this is! You're worried for Penny, aren't you? Oh, that's just _precious_."

"Yes. I'm also worried about Baurus and the situation in general." Martin turned to face Aranwen, and struggled to contain his exasperation. "Aranwen. I don't wish to seem rude, but I believe that you have completely the wrong idea about --"

Aranwen patted Martin's head, causing him to splutter into silence. "Yes, yes. Of course. _The wrong idea._" She winked, conspiratorially. "I understand perfectly, dear. I'll keep quiet. Discretion is one of my many virtues, after all!" She wandered aimlessly out of the hall, humming cheerfully to herself. Martin quietly wondered how one person could be so utterly deluded.

* * *

Pente had been desperately hoping that her memory had been lying to her about just how horrific Mehrunes Dagon's plane of Oblivion was. Surely it couldn't be as bad as she seemed to remember! She wasn't expecting it to be filled with unicorns and rainbows, but still... It had to be less scary now that she'd seen so many other terrifying things after that night in Kvatch, right?

_Wrong_. The place was every bit as terrifying as she remembered. Pente clung to her newly-repaired katana like a security blanket and whimpered quietly as she waited for the others to follow her through the Gate. She was most definitely going to die. If she wasn't busy being paralysed with fear, she'd be _really bloody annoyed_.

"By Talos!" Baurus coughed, almost bumping into Pente as he stumbled through the Gate. He looked around at the scene in horror. "I was expecting it to be bad, but..." He trailed off, looking at her oddly. "Are you okay?"

"No," Pente blurted. She looked up, frightened. This was _ridiculous._ Coming here willingly, despite being completely out of her depth? What was wrong with her? She wanted to go home, consequences be damned. "I c-can't do this, I really --"

"This is... Ugh... By the Nine!" Burd spluttered, interrupting Pente's plea as he emerged from the portal. He waved a hand, trying to dispel the acrid fumes. "This is just... We should get out of here as soon as possible!" Guards filed through the Gate after him, each reacting with a similar look of fear and revulsion. "Where to?" Burd asked, looking towards Pente.

She quickly looked away. "Oh, um..." She scanned the heat-hazed landscape. It was hard to make out much of anything; the fumes were burning her eyes and making them stream, and the heat from the huge expanses of lava only made things worse. Gulping back her fear, she tried to think rationally. _Okay. Sigil stone. Shining thingy. Tower._ She pointed to a tall structure some distance away. "Th-there, I think. The big tower - you see where it's glowing? We have to get in th-there." She wrung her hands. "But watch out for Daedra! Th-the last time I was in one of these, someone died. Even though he was braver and s-stronger than me. So be careful."

Burd nodded. "You heard that, men! To the tower! Stick close, watch out, and we'll make it. Come on." They started off towards the sigil tower. Pente began to follow on, but Baurus stopped her.

"Is that why you're so upset?"

"H-huh?" Pente squeaked.

"The guy you mentioned. The one who died. Is that why you got so scared? I knew _something_ was wrong."

"Oh... yeah. R-right."

Baurus briefly squeezed Pente's hand before drawing his blade. "Don't worry. This time, you're ready for it. We've got through worse than this, right? We'll be fine. Well, as long as you don't blind us by stripping the Daedra with that spell of yours. Please don't. I'd really rather not know what they look like under all that armour." He grinned reassuringly before running to join the others. Pente scurried along behind him, looking back at the exit wistfully.

_Damn it._

* * *

_Asinine. Utterly, unbearably stupid. Complete gibbering fools! _

High Chancellor Ocato pressed his lips together in annoyance. Were he the kind of mer who cursed, his thoughts about the Counts and Countesses of Cyrodiil would doubtlessly have been much more colourful. As it was, he simply glared at the stack of letters on his desk. Damnable nobles. Yes, he was aware that there was no Emperor. Yes, he understood that the murderers responsible for that were still at large. Yes, he was going to do something about it. He just wasn't entirely sure what that would be, exactly.

Ocato barely looked up as a Flame Atronach materialised in front of him, dropped another letter on his desk and promptly blinked out of existence. Similar occurrences had been happening a lot, today. First there had been the messenger from Chorrol, then a letter from Cheydinhal, then more and more in quick succession... All reporting the appearance of Oblivion Gates outside their respective city walls and requesting assistance. Ocato glanced at the seal on the latest letter - Skingrad. He was hardly surprised that Count Hassildor had been one of the last to inform him of the situation; the blasted man never had been one who liked asking for help. This had to mean that things were serious. The only city that had failed to contact him so far was Bruma. Everyone else had reported one of the Gates opening up, but he hadn't heard from Countess Carvain at all.

Bruma... Yes, if his informants were correct, then they would _definitely_ have been targeted. Considering all the rumours about the comings and goings from the Blades' stronghold there, Ocato would be extremely surprised if the town escaped this unscathed. He twirled his quill between his fingers, thoughtfully. This would provide an excellent opportunity to gain additional information about the rumours concerning Cloud Ruler Temple. There were a lot of conflicting reports about what exactly was going on up there - the consensus was generally that the Blades were harbouring both some kind of heir to the Septim bloodline and a legendary hero. Information on the former was scarce, but the things he had heard about the latter were, frankly, perplexing. The rumours included the mysterious hero being a master archer, a Wood Elf huntress, a wanted criminal, a sword-wielding Nord... Unless the mysterious hero was some kind of shape-shifter, there had to be something going on that Ocato wasn't aware of.

And if there was one thing that Ocato disliked above all others, it was not knowing things. Arching his fingertips against his forehead, he began to draft a reply to one of the letters.

_Count Terentius,_

_Kindly shove off and deal with your own problems, as I have a multitude of my own._

_Many thanks for your understanding and patience in this matter,_

_- High Chancellor Ocato_

Allowing himself a weary smile, the Altmer crumpled up the parchment. In times like this, it was important to derive amusement from any potential source.

* * *

Baurus frowned as he looked at Pente. She really was acting very strangely. Even more so than _usual_, he thought, watching her creep along the darkened hallways of the sigil tower. Her head was constantly moving, turning to look in different directions as if scared that Daedra were going to suddenly appear from beneath _rocks_ or something. It was incredibly odd to see. Being cautious was good, but this was just insane!

As far as he was concerned, this had been a lot easier than he had expected. As Pente had said a while ago, killing Daedra wasn't much different to killing anything else. Their little group had been dispatching the enemies with relative ease, but that hadn't stopped Pente from jumping around and making little scared noises every time they encountered anything hostile. Something was _definitely_ wrong, and Baurus was determined to find out what. Taking advantage of the lack of enemies around, he tapped her gently on the shoulder. "Hey."

"GODS! Nine save m--" Pente emitted a frightened squeak before realising who it was. She gathered herself slightly, though Baurus thought she still looked extremely tense. "O-oh. Um. What's wrong?"

"That's what I was planning on asking you," he frowned. "You're not exactly acting like yourself. Don't worry so much! We're all fine so far, right? No more than scratches. Nobody has any missing limbs, at least that I've noticed." His frown deepened as Pente gave no reaction. She was _really_ worrying him, now. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

She swallowed, nervously. "Um. We're near the top now, aren't we? I th-think so, anyway. Probably. I mean, we seem pretty h-high up. Can we talk about this when we're safe?"

"Sure." Maybe she was scared of heights? Baurus wasn't happy about this, but she was right. This could wait. Burd seemed to be thinking along the same lines - they had fallen slightly behind the main group again, and the Captain didn't seem too happy about it.

"Hurry up, you two. We're supposed to be sticking together!"

"Coming!" Pente replied, hastily. She sighed with relief. The last thing she needed right now was people asking her difficult questions. She flushed, slightly - particularly when it was someone so important doing the asking, of course. Hiding the truth from Baurus was bloody difficult. Following the others through an archway, she felt her stomach clench with worry. They had arrived in the Sigillum Sanguis. The Sigil Stone gleamed brightly overhead, suspended in flames. Pente tried hard to stay focused; while she was glad that this was almost over, she couldn't help but remember what had happened to Ilend the last time she was in a place like this. It couldn't happen again! She wouldn't let it!

Well, she'd at least _try_ to stop it from happening. And scream really loudly if it _did_.

"Stay on your guard, men!" ordered Burd, who gripped his sword tighter as they got closer to the glowing stone. Pente nodded in agreement. The little group climbed higher, Pente resuming her cautious activities as they went. She peered into every shadow, obsessively - no Clannfear was going to surprise _her._ No way.

Of course, there _was_ that group of Xivilai warriors that seemed to be chasing them. Pente was fairly surprised by _those_.

"Look out! Everyone!" she screamed, as a horrible sense of deja vu threatened to overwhelm her. The Xivilai were running up the ramps behind them, and Pente quickly realised that she was standing between them and the rest of her party.

That was _not_ the best place to be standing.

Losing her nerve completely, Pente turned and fled. Pushing past her comrades in her desperation, she panted raggedly, running as fast as she could. She could hear curses, her name being called, and screams - _horrible_ screams as more Daedra poured into the Sigillum Sanguis through the archways below, their numbers growing by the moment. Heeding none of it, Pente kept running and finally flung herself towards the Sigil Stone. As her hands closed around the glowing object, she felt no relief - only a sincere hope that she hadn't got anyone killed with her cowardice and stupidity, as once again she found herself hurtling towards the pit of lava below.

Baurus was going to _kill_ her.


	17. Chapter 17: Unusually Talented

"Ma'am, that was amazing!"

"You saved us!"

"Is that the Sigil Stone?"

"Gods, when she started falling..."

"I know. So brave..."

Pente opened her eyes and tried to stop trembling. _Safe. Alive._ She hugged the sigil stone to her chest and silently thanked the Nine, Y'ffre, and every other deity she could think of. Just in case. She was alive and back on Nirn. It was safe to say that Pente had never been so happy to be lying in the snow before. She blushed, suddenly. _Well, except for when..._

"_Baurus_! Where's Baurus?!" Pente jumped to her feet, dropping the stone in her haste. "I can't see him!" Sickening panic threatened to overwhelm her as her mind filled with images of Baurus being hurt, or trapped in the Oblivion Gate, or _worse_...

"Over there," one of the guards said, pointing behind Pente. "He hurt his arm, or something. But we've sent for a healer, one should be here soon. Don't worry, it's not..."

The guard didn't get a chance to finish. Pente was already running towards Baurus, who was sitting in the snow near to Captain Burd and looking somewhat worse for wear. She skidded to a halt and knelt down in the snow next to him, chewing her lip in distress. "What happened? I'm s-sorry! Really sorry! I know it's my fault, but I r-really didn't mean to --"

"Are you kidding?" Baurus asked, an amused-yet-pained smile crossing his features. "Why would it be your fault?"

Pente sniffled, trying not to look at the blood on the snow. There seemed to be such a _lot._ "B-because I ran." _And because I let you think you were going in there with a seasoned warrior who could watch your back,_ she thought, guiltily. She couldn't believe how stupid she had been. Well, she certainly wasn't going to let this happen again. _I'll go on my own next time, if that's what it takes! At least then it'll only be me that gets splattered._

_Although it'd be even better if there _wasn't_ a next time, of course._

"You're nuts. Even more than usual, I mean." Baurus patted Pente's shoulder with his uninjured arm. "If you hadn't gone to get the sigil stone so quickly, this could've been much worse. By the way - that was an impressive dive you did to get it. Very graceful."

Pente laughed and wiped her eyes. At least he wasn't too hurt to tease her. Before she could respond, Burd cut in. "Where _is_ the stone? Can I see it?"

"Oh... Y-yeah." Pente pointed to the remains of the Gate. "I left it in the snow. Over there, somewhere." As the Captain went to retrieve it, she turned back to Baurus. "Where's the healer, anyway? You'd think they'd hurry it up for the people wh-who just saved the town and closed the Oblivion Gate and --"

"It doesn't _matter_. Come here." Using his good arm, Baurus pulled her close. "It's not as bad as it looks. My shoulder just got a bit, uhh..." He thought for a second. "Smashed. That's all. One of the others stopped the bleeding already."

Pente paled. "S-smashed?"

"Yup. Pulverised. Those maces the Daedra use hit pretty hard, y'know. Want to see?"

"N-no!"

"The Hero of Kvatch, squeamish?" Baurus grinned. "I'd never have guessed. No wonder you were so jumpy back there. I wondered what was up..."

"Uhm. Yeah. That was it."

Burd came back, carrying the sigil stone. He stared at the two Blades blankly. "Uh, am I interrupting something?"

"Nope," Baurus grinned, cheerfully. "She's just keeping me warm 'til the healer gets here."

"Yes. In the snow. Because snow is cold," Pente explained, nodding.

"Uh, right." Burd handed the stone to Pente. "So if another gate opens, we just grab this like you did? There's no special method...?"

"No, you just take it. As fast as you can, like I did." Pente paused, turning the stone over in her hands. "U-um, plummeting is optional. You should be able to just grab it if your arms are long enough."

Baurus raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Diving for it looks better, though. Especially if you scream like a crazy Bosmer when you do it."

Burd looked perplexed. "Oh, uh. Right. Well, uh, we should be able to take care of any more of these Gates by ourselves from now on, then..."

"Oh, good!" Pente squeaked, happily. _No more trips into Oblivion for me!_

"Hello?" called an Altmer, jogging towards them. "I assume you would be the ones who requested a healer?" Baurus nodded and the Altmer kneeled beside him, smoothing out his mage robes delicately. "Your arm, correct? Ugh, who tried to heal this? Such amateurish work... Yes, I can heal this without too many problems." He glanced at Pente. "You would be one of the Blades as well, correct? Perhaps the hero we've been hearing about?"

"Y-yes," Pente replied, closing her eyes quickly to avoid looking at Baurus' arm. _I-ick. _

"Then the Countess of Bruma requests your presence. If you could stop by with the Captain, it would be much appreciated."

Pente got to her feet, nervously. Baurus waved her away. "Go on. I'll meet you outside the castle after I get fixed up. Don't keep her waiting!"

Nodding, Pente set off, following Captain Burd towards the city walls. Meeting a Countess couldn't possibly be as intimidating as it sounded. _Okay, I just have to remember to bow, say ma'am a lot, and _not_ call her a harlot. E-eep._

* * *

Narina tried not to let her surprise show on her face. _This_ was the Hero of Kvatch? It seemed so absurd. The mysterious warrior mentioned in Jearl's orders appeared to be a tiny, nervous-looking Wood Elf with a squeaky little voice. _Well._ The Blades just kept surprising her. "...So the Gate is closed. For certain. There's no chance of it reappearing?"

The Wood Elf nodded, then shook her head as though correcting herself. "Well, um, it's c-closed, but it might come back. Or another one could open. I don't really know for sure. It's all a bit confusing." She shuffled her feet and stared at the floor, her voice little more than an uncertain mumble. Narina couldn't help but be confused - this was _seriously _ the person who had closed the Gate?

"It's alright, Countess." Burd seemed to have mistaken her confusion for concern. "We know how to close them up quick enough. Me and the men have it covered. Thanks to the Hero of Kvatch, of course."

"Pente," the Wood Elf corrected, scowling slightly.

"Then thankyou, Pente." Narina waved a hand. "Captain, you are dismissed. My thanks to you and your men, of course. You've done an excellent job."

Pente fidgeted nervously, assuming she was meant to stay behind. As Burd closed the doors behind him, Narina leaned forward. "I'd just like a quick word, if you don't mind. Ah..." She paused, trying to work out the correct way to approach the subject. "The future Emperor..."

"Martin?"

"Yes. Martin. Is he..." _Offended? Horrified? Planning to remove a certain Countess from her position the moment that he's crowned?_ ..."Is he alright?"

"Um, yes. A bit embarrassed, a-apparently. But fine."

Narina closed her eyes. _Wonderful. He thinks I'm embarrassing._

"I think he was a b-bit worried about what you thought of him," Pente continued, obliviously. "Um, do you want me to tell him everything's okay? You don't seem offended or stuck-up or anything. Um, n-not that I expected you to be stuck-up or snobby or..."

"Wait," Narina interrupted, barely hearing Pente's babble. "He thinks it was _him_ who made a fool of himself?" She wasn't sure whether she was relieved or exasperated. _Probably both_, she reflected, thinking quickly. "Hero... I mean, ah, Pente. Would you care to do me a favour and escort me to Cloud Ruler Temple when you return?"

It would be rude to let Martin wallow in his humiliation, after all. And it wouldn't do to trust this kind of thing to a messenger. Sensitive information should be handled personally. It was only _polite.  
_

* * *

Jauffre groaned as he entered the main hall of Cloud Ruler Temple. It seemed that he had found Aranwen at precisely the wrong time. She was currently scowling at Roliand, one of the younger Blades, who was stammering out some kind of apology.

"I, uh, didn't mean to cause any offense, ma'am. I thought you must be worried, so I made you a cup of tea. I didn't realise --"

"Tea?! With _leaves_?" Aranwen sounded incredibly wounded. "Are you _trying_ to make me feel worse, sweetie? Hmm? Because when I'm worried about my daughter, _eternal damnation_ is just what I'm in need of. Gosh. _Honestly._" She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and made a dismissive hand gesture in Roliand's general direction. "You're lucky that I know you mean well, or I'd be personally insulted. Oh..." She brightened, suddenly, "Or were you unaware of the terms of the Green Pact, dear? Would you like me to teach you?"

Jauffre hurried over, feeling that it was his duty to rescue Roliand from one of the mer's lectures. "Aranwen! We've had some news!"

"Oh? Can it wait, sweetie?" Aranwen fluttered her eyelashes. "Unless it's about Penny, of course. Is she back yet, honeypot?"

"Not ye-- _honeypot?_" Jauffre blinked. That was even worse than _cutie_. Regaining his composure, the Breton shook his head. "Ahm, no. But she has apparently succeeded in closing the Gate, so she should be arriving back shortly. A messenger from Bruma has informed us that she is just informing the Countess of the current situation." Jauffre motioned towards the doors behind him. "He also brought a delivery for you, although I --"

"_Ooooh_!" Aranwen clapped her hands together gleefully. "The clothes I ordered! Marvellous! Come on, darling, I'll need your help bringing it all inside. I am but a feeble damsel in distress, after all!" she winked, running off towards the courtyard at a surprising rate.

"But..." Jauffre protested, forlornly. "I had to pay for it. When will you..."

"_Details_, darling. Come, hurry up!"

Jauffre removed his helmet and laid it on one of the tables, rubbing at his forehead to try and relieve some of his exasperation. Aranwen could be _intensely_ infuriating at times.

Then again, she was a rather intense lady in general...

* * *

This was _amazing_. Styrbrand simply couldn't believe his luck. It was magnificent! Perfect! A truly fitting welcome to Anvil. If he had been the type of man who cried, Styrbrand would have wept with joy.

He wasn't, of course. Crying was for _girls_, and Styrbrand was a big, strong, _manly_ hero. Tough! Skilled! Precisely the kind of man who should go on death-defying adventures, save royal heirs, and close Oblivion Gates. Therefore, the Gate that was currently burning outside Anvil's walls was obviously a sign. A sign of destiny and heroic events and... and generally good things. The details weren't important - this was _too perfect_.

Letting out a mighty roar of triumph, Styrbrand ran towards the Gate. Noting the Anvil guards who were staring at him in awe, he raised his claymore at them heroically. "Fear not, humble guardsmen! You need no longer tremble in fear, for the Daedra will bother you no more! I, Styrbrand the Unbelievably Mighty, am here to --"

"Get away from that, you stupid bloody fetcher!" One of the guards rushed over and pulled Styrbrand away from the flaming portal. "What in the name of the Nine are you doing? You got some kind of suicide wish?!"

"U-unhand me, cur!" Styrbrand spluttered, indignantly. "I'm a hero! A legendary warrior! Just _look_ at me. You can't treat me like this!"

With the aid of his companions, the guard shoved Styrbrand towards the gates of Anvil. He folded his arms, firmly. "I don't give a damn. You could be an unusually talented Spriggan for all I care - you're not getting in. Nobody goes into the Gate. Countess' orders."

"But..."

The guard rolled his eyes. "Look. Did the Legion send you?"

"No."

"The High Chancellor?"

"No."

"Are you the Hero of Kvatch?"

A muscle in Styrbrand's jaw twitched involuntarily. "...No."

"Then the Gate is off-limits." The guard softened slightly at Styrbrand's disappointed expression. "Listen, Anvil has plenty of opportunities for a young lad like you. There's the Fighters Guild, shop work, heavy lifting at the docks, all that kind of thing. No need to get yourself killed, now."

"Humph." Ignoring the guard, Styrbrand stormed off towards the town. This was _ridiculous!_ He was still getting upstaged by that bloody Bosmer and she wasn't even _here._ He glowered sulkily. There was only one thing for it - it was time to get drunk.

* * *

"You're back!" beamed Martin, smiling in relief. Pente was scurrying towards him, a huge grin on her face. Before he could ask her how things had gone, she grabbed hold of his arm.

"Martin! Countess Narina is here. And she came to see you! She's talking to Baurus in the courtyard, but she'll be here any minute and --"

Martin's smile vanished instantly. "Narina?" he croaked. _Oh, no._ This was awful, horrible... He wasn't _prepared!_ "I haven't finished my letter of apology yet... I can't... Why is she here?" he asked, helplessly.

"To see you. She said she needed to talk to you about, um, important things." Pente shrugged, chewing her lip. "Um, do you want me to stall her while you calm down? You're a bit, u-uh..." She tapped her face, almost apologetically. "A bit flushed."

"If you wouldn't mind. Thankyou..." Martin glanced around the room, desperately. _A gift, then. To say sorry. That would work._ His eyes fell upon an Akaviri helmet laying discarded on a nearby table. Narina _had_ mentioned being interested in Akaviri culture, hadn't she...? Picking the helm up, Martin called out to Pente just before she reached the door. "Pente! Whose is this?"

She turned around and squinted at the object. "Oh, I don't know... But there's lots more in the armoury. If you want it, I don't see why you shouldn't keep it."

"Thanks." Martin looked at the helmet, thoughtfully. Perhaps he could find a ribbon to tie around it, or something. His fingers traced over the slightly worn metal as he tried to calm himself. _This is absurd. I shouldn't be nervous. The only way to deal with this is to be confident. Calm. Poised._

"Um, hello again."

"Oh!" Martin let out a very undignified yelp as he turned to face Narina. _So much for poise._ "Ah, hello. Good to see you. I, ah, hope today finds you well."

"It certainly does. Thankyou for sending assistance. Your Blades performed admirably. Though I expect this is no surprise to you?" Narina seemed to be suppressing a smile as she spoke. It was really very unnerving.

"Ah, yes. They're very good at what they do. And it was no problem to send them, of course; none of us wish for another Kvatch. And it was the least I could do, considering..." He stopped himself, mortified.

"Considering what?"

Martin completely missed the mischievous glint in Narina's eyes. "Considering my... conduct the last time we met. I assure you, it was never my intention to --"

Narina started laughing, though not unkindly. "Oh, nonsense. Do I look offended to you?"

Relief rushed through Martin and he made a mental note to thank the Nine Divines for their mercy. "Well, no. I was worried, though. I hoped that I hadn't offended you, but..."

"Not at all." Narina smiled, softly. "I had fun."

"I, ah..." Martin smiled back in response, and quickly held out the discarded helmet. "Well, here. A gift."

"There's no need... Oh!" Narina gasped. "This is... I can really keep this? It's such a wonderful specimen! Thankyou _so_ much."

"It's nothing. We apparently have an abundance of them." Martin motioned towards the doorway. "Would you like to see the library? I believe I promised to show you around before." Narina smiled and took his arm.

"I'd be delighted!"

* * *

"There's no mark there at all!" Pente marvelled, examining Baurus' freshly-healed arm. "I suppose potions are no substitute for a well-trained healer. Do you think I could learn to do that? Heal with magic, I mean. Um, competently. It must be really useful... Look, there aren't any scars or anything!" She poked Baurus' arm gingerly.

"Oh, you're interested in what the healer did. Right. And here I was thinking you just wanted an excuse to cling to my arm," Baurus sighed, melodramatically. "Oh, well..."

Pente laughed. "Feeling m-much better, then? Good." They walked through the courtyard of Cloud Ruler together, and Pente let out a contented sigh. It was _so_ nice to be back at Cloud Ruler. After the horrors of Oblivion, it seemed perfect. Relative safety, _wonderful _ company, and a distinct lack of scary things in general. Bliss.

As they approached the barracks, it became clear that there were other people already in there. Voices could be heard faintly through the wooden doors. Reminded of what they had witnessed the last time they had barged into a room, Baurus leaned forwards to listen. Pente did the same, curiosity spreading across her features. _Is that mother...?_

* * *

Aranwen dug through the huge pile of clothes. Yes, everything certainly seemed to be in order. Excellent! Pushing several dresses to one side, she pulled a pair of fishnet stockings from the pile and smiled triumphantly. If these didn't make Martin take notice of her Penny, then nothing would! _Nothing!_

"Sweetie...?" she cooed, beckoning to Jauffre. "What do you think of these?"

"G-gah!" Jauffre spluttered, "Um, I, ah, I'm sure they'll look very nice on you. Um."

"Oh, silly. They're not for _me_," she giggled, rolling her eyes. "Gosh, they're hardly my size." She passed the garments to Jauffre, who took them _very_ reluctantly. "Just hold them up, dear. I need to see how they'll look."

Jauffre's mouth opened and closed in silent horror. Considering the size of the stockings - short and twiglike - they would have to be for _Pente_. She wanted his opinion on lingerie _for her daughter?_ "Do you... Do you really think this is, er, appropriate?"

He was rewarded with another of Aranwen's giggles. "I don't see why not. Just hold them up against yourself for me. Wonderful." She stepped back and viewed Jauffre critically.

_Hmm. They seem like they'd do the trick. So now it's just a case of getting her to wear them, she's been so rebellious lately..._

Aranwen was distracted from her thoughts by a small noise at the door. Whirling around, she whipped the doors open, glaring. "Who's -- oh! Hello, Penny, dear! Back already? Wonderful. And Baurus too, I see. Um... What's wrong?" She asked, confused by the slack-jawed response she was getting.

"Jauffre," whispered Pente.

"_Fishnets,_" Baurus croaked, stepping backwards.

Aranwen glanced over her shoulder to where Jauffre was frozen, mortified, as he held the stockings up against himself. _Oh._ Turning back to her daughter, she smiled brightly. "Don't look so worried, darling, he's only seeing if they're suitable. Do you like them, dear?"

Pente once again found herself wondering if Oblivion really _was_ that bad, after all.


	18. Chapter 18: Complete Idiot

Pente miserably gazed down at her breakfast. She was _not_ having a very good morning. It was typical, really. Whenever she was away from Cloud Ruler Temple, she wished she was back there doing normal, everyday things. She should be happy - eating breakfast with everyone would surely qualify, and yet she wanted nothing more than to run away screaming.

Though, she reflected, that probably had something to do with her mother hissing instructions in her ear. It was difficult to enjoy _anything_ with a bossy Wood Elf elbowing you in the side at regular intervals.

"Darling. Sit a little closer to him." This was accompanied by an especially hard jab to Pente's ribs, nudging her towards Martin. "Or ask him to pass you the water, or something. Say _something_, dear. And don't forget to smile. Lots of eye contact. Oh, and move your chair closer to his, like this." Aranwen ceased whispering and shoved Pente's chair towards Martin's, sending her toppling from it and onto the floor.

"Um, s-sorry..." Pente mumbled, setting her chair upright and sitting back down. It seemed she had knocked Martin's glass of water into his plate. Picking up her napkin, she dabbed at the spill apologetically. "I d-didn't mean to. Slipped."

"That's alright. I wasn't really hungry anyway." Martin raised his voice slightly. "Does anyone mind if I excuse myself? I wish to study some more of the Xarxes."

Aranwen sniffed as Martin left the table. "So clumsy. Honestly, Penny, it's like you're _trying_ to drive him away." She sipped delicately at her glass. "At least he was only eating _toast _, I suppose. Toast. Honestly. I ask you, how bad must a food be if it has to be cooked _twice?"_

Pente sighed and stared back down at her plate, trying to drown out her mother's complaining. _Then again,_ she thought, _if I haven't learned how to ignore mother in the last twenty-four years, what makes me think I'll succeed now?_ Stabbing her food moodily with her fork, she sighed once more. _Well, isn't this just a wonderful start to the day? I --_

_What was THAT?_

Recoiling slightly, Pente stifled a squeak as she felt a foot brush against her leg under the table. _Oh g-gods!_ Tensing up, she determinedly avoided looking at anyone. _That had to have been a mistake. But h-- Aah!_

The foot was now rubbing her leg. Very slowly and deliberately. Silently fuming, Pente fixed her gaze on the table and clenched her fists. This was _not_ funny. She was going to _kill_ Baurus; he _knew _ that things like this made her nervous!

...except it couldn't be Baurus. Pente's mouth dropped open as she realised that the Redguard was sitting at the other end of the table, far too far away to reach. So who...

"AHH!" she yelped, instinctively kicking out as hard as she could. The leg was quickly withdrawn, and Pente looked up in shock as _Jauffre_ let out a gasp of pain. As their eyes met, it was difficult to tell who was more mortified by the situation.

"Penny! What was I just saying about being clumsy? _Honestly_." Aranwen frowned. "Look, you made poor Jauffrekins choke."

* * *

Pente scurried away as quickly as possible as soon as breakfast was over. She had absolutely _no_ desire to be nagged by her mother or asked, well... _anything_ about her little outburst at the table. Shuddering slightly, she wondered if it would be possible to just hide away all day before things got even worse. Perhaps Baurus could find them another cupboard, or something...

"Pente!"

Groaning inwardly, Pente increased her pace. _Jauffre._ The last person she wanted to speak to. Pretending not to hear, she hummed tunelessly in an effort to drown out his exasperated shouting.

"Pente! Just -- _Stop_, blast you!" Jauffre was running to catch up, now. Pente turned around reluctantly, steeling herself. If the Breton was going to make so much noise, it pretty much defeated the point of avoiding him in the first place.

"Wh-what?" she asked, in as snappy a voice as she could muster. Jauffre looked rather hurt.

"There's no need for that," he chided. "Ehm, if this is because you're upset about breakfast, ah... You were sitting next to your _mother_, you see, and I must have... must have _missed_." Jauffre trailed off, noting that Pente didn't seem too comforted by his explanation. He coughed a little,assumed a dignified stance, and pulled a rather crumpled letter from his pocket. "Ahem, well. This arrived last night; I believe it warrants your attention."

As she viewed the letter in Jauffre's hands, Pente's face drained of colour. The document seemed to have the remains of an official Imperial seal on it - what if it was an arrest warrant? "Wh-what's... O-oh, if this is about what happened in Leyawiin, I can explain! It wasn't my fault, I didn't _mean_ for the Countess to lose her clothes --"

"Leyawiin?" Jauffre asked, puzzled. "I don't..." He shook his head dismissively - perhaps it was better not to ask. "Just read the letter, please." Smiling nervously, Pente unfolded the parchment. Her brow furrowed slightly as she began to read.

"Um," she started, chewing her lip in confusion. Looking up from the letter, she tilted her head. "Who's the _'warrior of outstanding aptitude'_ that keeps getting mentioned?"

"You, of course."

"Oh." Pente swallowed, and kept reading. "So, uh, let me just check. Due to, um, events beyond the control of the Council consolidating into an, um, crisis, the High Chancellor wants an audience with me and..." She squinted at the letter. "Martin, is it? The successor he mentions? By Azura. Wh-why does he have to make it all sound so complicated?"

"He's a High Elf," Jauffre explained, helpfully.

"Who are we talking about, darlings?" Aranwen asked, strolling towards them. "There aren't any High Elves here, are there? I'm sure I would have noticed." She leaned towards Jauffre, whispering conspiratorially. "I never could stand the Altmer, myself. Nobody is ever good enough for those snobs! And if you don't agree with their beliefs, then you're not worth their attention. Oh, and they can be so _pushy_..."

Jauffre barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "We were discussing High Chancellor Ocato. He has requested that Martin and your daughter go to discuss various matters with him. Of course, Martin will have to decline the invitation - he must not leave Cloud Ruler at a time like this. I was thinking of sending Baurus with her instead --"

"Oh! The High Chancellor!" Aranwen gushed. "Oh, well! He's _different_, isn't he?"

"I suppose."

"Yes, I bet he's not stuck up at all!"

"One would hope not. Anyway --"

"It's a pity I never got to meet him. Obviously I've _seen_ him; I lived in the Imperial City for over twenty years, you know. I never spoke with him, though, despite wanting to..." Aranwen sighed wistfully, and glanced at Jauffre through lowered eyelids.

The Breton smiled, wearily. "Ah. Would you like to go with Pente instead of Baurus? I know you're capable of looking after yourself, should anything happen."

"Oh, _Jauffrekins_!" Aranwen cried, throwing her arms around his neck and gifting him with a noisy smooch on the cheek. "I'd _love_ to! That's a wonderful idea, darling. I'll be sure to show you my appreciation for it, later. You know that _thing_ you like --"

"I'm s-still here, you know," Pente mumbled, raising a hand and looking vaguely nauseated. Genuinely startled, Jauffre's eyes widened as he tried to regain his dignity. This was difficult with Aranwen hanging from his neck and a large smear of her lipstick across his cheek, but he soldiered on regardless.

"Well, um, quite. Pente, you and Aranwen should leave soon. It would be inappropriate to, ah, keep the High Chancellor waiting."

"Oooh! Won't this be fun, Penny?" Aranwen giggled, finally letting Jauffre free from her clutches. "You go and get our travel supplies and all that nonsense. I have something I need to take care of before we go. Oh, and in Y'ffre's name, put on one of the pretty dresses I got you! You can't go and meet anyone _important _wearing that dreadful armour you're always swanning about in."

"I met the Countess of Bruma wearing it. She didn't s-seem to mind."

"Well," Aranwen sneered, "that just says it all, doesn't it? Hurry up, dear."

* * *

Something was definitely not adding up.

Baurus had never been the kind of person who thought too deeply about things. Life was only as complicated as you allowed it to be, after all, and he preferred not to make things any more complex than necessary.

Well, that's what he had always thought. Life hadn't been all that simple lately, had it? The mere presence of a certain Bosmer tended to throw everything into chaos and, to be honest, he didn't mind in the slightest. It's just that there was something... Something that didn't quite fit. Something Baurus couldn't put his finger on. Something that Pente was _hiding_. He had been planning to ask her about it at some point today, but the mer had been proving difficult to corner this morning. First Aranwen had dragged her off to sit with her at breakfast, then Pente had rushed away as soon as the meal was over... Almost like she was avoiding him. _Hmmm_.

"Excuse me! You. Yes, you. _Baurus_."

The Redguard barely stifled a groan. _Gods damn it. Wrong Bosmer._ "How can I help, Aranwen?"

"Just a quick favour, dear." Aranwen trotted over to him, her arms folded. "You're friendly with my Penny, correct?"

It was more a statement than a question. Baurus smiled, politely, but remained wary - _careful._ "Uh-huh. Why'd you ask?"

"I need you to give me a teensy smidgen of help. Seeing as you want what's best for her, I'm sure you won't mind," Aranwen trilled, airily. "Am I right?"

"I kind of need to know what I'm agreeing to before I can answer that," Baurus replied. Aranwen rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her hips impatiently.

"I really don't have time for this, darling. It's about Penny's welfare. Her security. Her _future happiness."_

_Relax. She can't know anything._ Warily, Baurus rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not sure what that has to do with me."

"Goodness! Are you really this dim-witted, or are you doing this purposely to vex me? Because that's mean, darling. Just terrible." Aranwen shook her head. "I need you to help me _encourage_ her and Marty to realise their feelings for each other. Surely you've noticed that there's something between them? The sexual tension is easier to spot than a troll in a snowfield."

"I..." Baurus struggled to hold in his laughter. "I see. So you want me to... uh..."

"Encourage them, darling. Marty especially - bless him, I think he's in denial about it all. But with a few words from a trusted friend..." she raised her eyebrows. "You'll have the perfect opportunity while Penny and I are gone."

"Gone?"

"Yes, dear. Do try and keep up. We're going to visit the _High Chancellor_. Isn't that wonderful? Anyway, I expect a full report on your progress later. Ta-ta, darling!"

Baurus stared as Aranwen practically _skipped_ out of the room, fluttering her fingers at him in an airy little wave. While this had the potential to be amusing, he couldn't help but think that getting involved in one of Aranwen's schemes could only end badly.

* * *

It was noon by the time Pente and Aranwen arrived in the Imperial City. The sun was shining brightly over White Gold Tower, and Pente couldn't help but be reminded of the map that would surely be glowing on the tomb in Green Emperor Way at this very moment. Of course, when she had seen that on her last trip to the city, the company had been _far_ better than it was currently.

"Isn't it lovely to be home, Penny?" sighed Aranwen. "The hustle and bustle of the city. Wonderful. Stand a little straighter, dear, you shouldn't slouch in such a pretty dress. It completely ruins the effect, you know."

Pente felt utterly ridiculous. The dress she had been coaxed and threatened into wearing was hardly her style. It was hideous - long, frilly to the point of it being absurd, and the most sickly pink colour imaginable. The only consolation was that it didn't have bloody unicorns on the bottom. Or fishnet stockings underneath.

"Aranwen!" a voice called, and Pente groaned, inwardly. Apparently they had had the misfortune to bump into Elragail, her mother's least favourite mer in all Cyrodiil. _Wonderful_. Elragail waved as she walked over to greet them, a patronising smile on her face. "My, my. The girls and myself were wondering what had happened to you, disappearing so suddenly like that. You're alive, then?" The look on her face suggested that she did not in any way approve of Aranwen's reappearance. "There've been so many rumours - that you were killed, that you killed someone, that there was legion involvement... You've caused quite a scandal, you know."

"Good afternoon, Elragail. Well, you know me," Aranwen breezed, "Always a lady of mystery. Rumours are bound to follow me around. I don't like to reveal too much, dear..."

"Your dress says otherwise." Elragail had a point. Aranwen's dress was displaying a rather impressive amount of cleavage, and Pente was _dreading_ Ocato's reaction to it. At least it would hopefully keep his attention away from the frilly monstrosity _she_ was wearing...

"Just dressing to impress, you know. I'm going to visit the High Chancellor with my Pente. One has to look presentable! Yes, Penny's quite the lady of high society these days," Aranwen boasted, smiling smugly at Elragail's jealous expression. "So no time to catch up further, sweetie! We wouldn't want to be more than fashionably late, after all!" She took Pente's hand and led her off towards the Palace grounds, beaming radiantly.

"M-mother," Pente mumbled, struggling to walk quickly due to the abundance of ruffles on her dress, "I'm not a _high society lady _at all. I'm a Blade. You _do_ know that, don't you?"

"Details, sweetie, details. Did you see her face? That witch has held her connections to Countess Umbranox over me for _years_, so she needs to be put in her place. And you look like a perfect lady in that dress, anyway."

Pente glowered. "I look like I fell in a bucket of flower petals."

"Speak up, darling. Goodness, you'll have to make sure you don't mumble like that when you meet the Chancellor. I know - would you like _me_ to do the talking, sweetie? I'm sure I can charm him. He seems like a mer with good taste, after all..."

"N-no!" Pente squeaked. "No! That's a-alright. Jauffre told me exactly wh-what I have to say." She smiled nervously, plucking at her dress. "H-honestly. I can do it. No need for you to talk at all, really. Actually, you c-could just stay outside if you wanted. You don't have to bother with any of thi-- OOF!"

She walked straight into one of the guards patrolling the palace grounds, who glared down at her dismissively. "Move along, citizen. Loitering here is forbidden."

"Such rudeness!" Aranwen gasped, scowling up at the guard. Pushing Pente aside, she wagged a finger at the bemused Imperial. "I'll have you know that you're talking to the _Hero of Kvatch!_ She's been summoned here directly on the High Chancellor's orders, you know. Getting in the way wouldn't be smart, dearie."

The guard frowned uncertainly. "And you are...?"

"Her mo... most important advisor. She barely functions without me, you know. Now stand aside, sweetheart."

* * *

A soft knock on Ocato's door was followed by an apologetic-looking soldier stepping into the room. "High Chancellor. You have a visitor."

Ocato looked up from his paperwork, wearily. "Can it wait? If they don't have an appointment, I would prefer it if this could be arranged for an alternative time. I happen to be rather busy at the moment."

"Yes, sir. But, uh, they seemed to think they _did_ have an appointment."

Passing a hand over his eyes, Ocato sighed. "I don't recall any audiences being scheduled for today. Who is it?"

"The Hero of Kvatch plus one companion, sir."

"Ah." Ocato raised his eyebrows - he hadn't expected such a fast response to his letter. It was good to see that even in all the chaos lately, the Blades were still on top of things. "Excellent. If you wouldn't mind sending them through to the Council chambers, I shall meet them in there shortly."

Signing his name at the bottom of the letter he had been writing, the Altmer stowed the parchment away in the drawer of his desk. If the meeting went well, then hopefully his workload would be alleviated considerably. After all, who better to do a hero's job than the Hero of Kvatch? Ocato stood upright, gently smoothing back his hair as he did so. The companion that had been mentioned would surely be the Septim heir, then. It was vitally important that he make a good impression. He waled out of his rooms and headed for the chambers, musing quietly. He really would have preferred some more notice that they would be arriving, but that couldn't be helped now.

_Yes,_ Ocato thought, paying no heed to the voices coming from further down the hall. F_irst impressions are most important. I shall have to show respect..._

"Oh, Penny. Come here."

_Dignity..._

"S-stop it!"

_Strength, poise...  
_

"Stand still!"

"Please! He'll be h-here any minute --"

"Ah." Ocato raised a single eyebrow as he opened the chamber doors. Standing before him were two Wood Elves. The older of the two was patting at the smaller mer's hair, apparently trying to get the rather tousled style to lie smooth. Ocato subtly scanned the room in the hope of seeing someone else, but to no avail - these seemed to be the people he was meeting with. _What in...?!_

"O-oh!" The younger mer gasped, flapping her hands in a flustered little gesture. "Oh, I, um." She cleared her throat and raised her eyes to the ceiling, clearly reciting her words from memory. "Um, greetings, High Chancellor. I am, uh, Pente, Hero of Kvatch, and I, ehm, humbly offer you my services. Uh, s-sir." She began to bow, stopped halfway, and turned the movement into a halting little curtsey. "Grandmaster Jauffre sends his regards."

Ocato was hardly an inexperienced mer. He had seen many strange things in his lifetime, and it was safe to say that he wasn't easily shocked. However, confronted with the frilliest Wood Elf he had ever seen claiming to be a hero, he was having trouble keeping the surprise off his face. "I... greetings. Thankyou for your swift response to my summons." He turned to the older mer, who was twirling a curled auburn strand of hair between her fingers. "Then you must be the Septim heir, my Lady?"

There was a meaningful silence as the woman stopped twirling her hair, apparently lost for words. Pente let out a choked little snort of laughter. "N-no! She's not Martin! Martin. Martin is the, um, Septim heir. I forgot that bit. Sorry." She squirmed uncomfortably and began reciting again. "I was also supposed to tell you that, um, Martin Septim apologises for his absence. He regrets that he cannot be here to meet you, but, uh, it is considered prudent to keep him in hiding considering, um, current events."

"Well, ah, quite prudent, yes. Thankyou." Ocato was still wondering if this was some kind of joke. If so, it was terribly inappropriate. "My apologies, madam. Then you are...?"

The mer had recovered. "Aranwen, dear. A _pleasure_ to meet you," she purred, holding out her hand. Her smile was replaced with a look of disappointment as Ocato shook the hand instead of kissing it, and he tactfully pretended not to notice.

"Likewise." He turned to Pente again, quickly. "To business. Am I to understand that you are capable of closing these portals to Oblivion?"

"Um, yes." Pente pulled anxiously at the sleeve of her dress. "I shut the one at Kvatch, and then one at Bruma yesterday. But --"

"Excellent," Ocato breathed, trying not to sound too relieved. "You see, Bruma isn't the only city that was targeted yesterday. I have received requests for aid from the nobility throughout Cyrodiil, who have all been afflicted with these --"

Pente paled, etiquette forgotten as she interrupted the Altmer. "Wh-which nobles asked for help?"

"Well, all of the various Counts and Countesses. Chorrol, Anvil, Cheydinhal..."

"All of th-them?!"

Ocato once again found himself wondering exactly what kind of hero he had been sent. "That is correct. Considering that you are capable of closing these Gates, I feel it best to delegate the responsibility of closing them to yourself."

"M-me?"

"Quite."

"Oh, isn't this exciting?" Aranwen squealed, enthusiastically. Think, Penny! You won't just be Hero of Kvatch, you'll be the Saviour of Skingrad! Liberator of Leyawiin! The --"

"Please s-stop."

Ocato nodded decisively. "Then it's settled. I thank you for taking the time to come here today, I appreciate that you must have very busy schedules --"

"Never too busy for _you_, dear."

Ocato flinched. "Indeed. Unfortunately, the Empire does not run itself, and there are many demands on my time..."

"Wait!" Pente squeaked, desperately. "Why can't you send the Legion to close some of the Gates? Surely they --"

"They are busy in the other provinces," the Altmer replied. "Anyway, I'm quite certain that you are capable of handling the situation. Will there be anything else? My time is rather limited."

Pente looked utterly defeated. "No. N-nothing."

"Then farewell. I implore you to contact me in writing, should you have any concerns."

"Y-yes," Pente mumbled, quietly. "Concerns."

Ocato rolled his eyes. "Quite."

* * *

"Here you go." Baurus placed a plate of fruit in front of Martin, pushing aside the Mysterium Xarxes as he did so. "I know staring at symbols all day must be, uh, interesting, but you still have to eat."

"Oh... thankyou." Martin looked down at the food, slightly puzzled. "Were apples the _only_ thing in the kitchens?"

"No, I just figured you should eat fruit while you can. Without being lectured." Baurus grinned, lapsing into his impression of Aranwen. "Such a heathen, _Marty_..."

"Stop that. It's disturbing," Martin shuddered, picking up an apple and examining it distractedly. "I actually managed to translate some more of the Xarxes thanks to Aranwen's absence. It does wonders for my concentration."

"Oh?" Baurus said, curiously. "What's the next thing we need? I assume it's something disgustingly difficult to find. Like usual."

"Correct. It's a Great Welkynd Stone. There are no records of any being left, at least that I can find." Martin grumbled. "I should get assistance from someone... I don't suppose you know much about Ayleid ruins?"

"You suppose right. If I didn't know better, I'd say the Mythic Dawn didn't _want_ us in their Paradise," Baurus joked. "Oh, by the way, I'm supposed to be having _words_ with you."

"Yes?" Martin asked, suspiciously. The Redguard had that _look_ in his eyes again...

"Aranwen's orders." Baurus picked up one of Martin's apples and bit into it, grinning. "She wanted me to have a man-to-man _chat_ with you. About your feelings for her Pennykins."

"I wish she'd stop that." Martin pulled a face. "It's even worse than her attempts to convert me."

"Well, you have a few options," Baurus said, putting aside the apple. "Firstly - pretend you're in love with someone else."

"And get them killed?"

"Point taken. Then you could convince Aranwen that you... prefer the company of other men." The Redguard began _giggling_. It was most disconcerting. "Kissing Jauffre in front of her should do it."

The Imperial's stony glare said more than words possibly could.

* * *

Anvil wasn't so bad after all, Styrbrand decided. Sure, the presence of that Oblivion Gate was kind of annoying, but hey - the booze was cheap. And, apparently, so were the women. He'd been approached by two fine examples of womanhood the moment he had entered the Flowing Bowl, and they were avidly listening to his tales of heroism. Life was _sweet_.

"So, there I was. The Imperial City prison. Jailed! Me!" Styrbrand poked himself in the chest, seriously. "It took ten guards to bring me down, of course. Despite my condition."

"Condition?" asked the Imperial woman, stroking Styrbrand's bicep comfortingly. "What condition? And why were you jailed? Those big _meanies..._"

Styrbrand grinned, taking another swig of ale. "I was arrested for being drunk and disorderly, of course. It's what Nords _do_. Isn't that right?" he asked the Nord woman to his left, who was draping herself over his shoulder in a very distracting way. Not that he minded particularly, of course. There were far worse things to get distracted by.

"Mmm, yes," she purred. "Do carry on."

"Right. So anyway - I was drunk, so it only took ten guards to bring me in. Normally, the whole of the legion couldn't take me on," he boasted. "Too heroic, you know. I could fell them with a single glance. So, I was shoved in a cell, left to cool down a little, they said. Which would have worked a lot better if they hadn't put me across from one of those Dark Elves. The snappy kind. He was clearly jealous of my manliness."

"Ooh, I'll bet."

"You must get that a lot, Styr..."

"Of course." Styrbrand motioned to the barman, requesting that his tankard be refilled. "Anyway, so, as I was sitting there intimidating all the other prisoners with my _presence_, I heard voices. Something about assassins and murders - so, naturally, I got up to listen. Being a hero, it's kind of my job."

The Imperial fluttered her eyelashes. "Gosh, so exciting!"

"All everyday work for Styrbrand the Unbelievably Mighty. So who was it, you ask? The Emperor! Emperor Uriel Septim!" Styrbrand banged the table impressively. "Astounding, isn't it? But he knew me. Saw me in his _dreams_, he said. Told me I was chosen by the Nine, marked by destiny! I already knew that, of course, but it was still good to hear it from the Emperor himself."

"Wow... I wish I'd seen you in my dreams, honey."

"Teehee, me too!"

Styrbrand winked. "Plenty of time, ladies... Anyhow. The Emperor was in my cell because there was a hidden escape route! Clearly the work of destiny! Of course, I'd have found it all by myself if I hadn't been too busy being amazing. I'm smart like that. He told me to join him instead of just staying in my cell, so I did. His bodyguards weren't happy, but they were just jealous."

"Then what?" The Nord woman gasped, breathily. "Were you there when he was..."

"Oh, yes." Styrbrand nodded. "I was there at the end. When he was murdered in cold blood! Slain by a cowardly churl! Stabbed in the heart by a _red-robed assassin!_"

He paused, thoughtfully, and drained his tankard. Red-robed assassin... hmmm. Why did that seem like something that he should be thinking about some more...? Something he'd seen lately, wasn't it?

No matter. It probably wasn't important.

"So... he died. And gave me the Amulet of Kings. Told me to take it to some guy called Jauffre. Obviously, he recognised my greatness. Even if others..."

"The Amulet of Kings?" The Imperial asked. "My, my! Do you still have it? Can I see it?"

"No, no! I completed my mission. Styrbrand the Unbelievably Mighty never fails in his task! Never!" Styrbrand moodily requested another drink. "_Never_." He certainly wasn't going to continue his story to what happened at Kvatch. Bloody Bosmers.

"Well, what if _we_ were to give you a task...?" the Imperial giggled, leaning to whisper in Styrbrand's ear. He blinked, interestedly. By the Nine... Was that even biologically possible?

Well, he certainly wasn't going to balk at finding out. "Gweden Farm? Where's that?"

"Just outside of town. I'm sure a big hunk of a man like you can find it with no problems," the Imperial winked. See you later, Styrbrand..." She exited the Flowing Bowl along with the Nord woman, and they shot each other gleeful looks. "Isn't he perfect?"

"Faustina, you're a genius," the Nord giggled. "Stupid, drunk, and rich if his armour's anything to go by. We're very lucky women..."

"I told you so," Faustina smirked. "I can always spot a good mark from miles away. You should know that by now, Signy... But honestly," she said, rolling her eyes, "that story about the Emperor was just ridiculous. Just who is he trying to kid? Please..."

* * *

_I'm going to die._

Pente was completely oblivious to Aranwen's chatter as they neared the end of their journey back to Cloud Ruler.

She felt distanced from everyone and everything - so _numb_. Just thinking about tackling all those Oblivion Gates...

_I'm really going to bloody die._

She prayed it would be quick. Pente had seen enough dismembered corpses in the realms of Oblivion to know that it might _not_ be. Whatever happened, her death was certain. She'd been immensely lucky to have survived for so long already, really - expecting to live through so many more Gates was ridiculous.

_I am so dead._

Pente and Aranwen finally reached Cloud Ruler, and Pente was disappointed to note that the familiar surroundings did nothing to lighten her mood. If anything, being back home was only making her feel worse.

When had she started calling the stronghold _home_, anyway?

"Goodness, isn't it dark?" Aranwen murmured, closing the gates behind them. "All this adventuring business is very tiring, sweetie. I don't know how you... Penny? Are you alright?"

"Mmm. Just tired."

"I see. Make sure you get lots of sleep, dear. It's going to be a big day tomorrow, after all." Aranwen patted her daughter's head affectionately. "I do worry about you sometimes, you know."

"I'm fine, mother."

"Good." She smiled, lightly. "Well, I'm going to go and, uh, report to Jauffrekins before bed. Nighty-night, darling!"

"Goodnight." Pente watched her mother trotting off towards the temple, and breathed a shuddering sigh.

She had work to do.

* * *

_Clang!_

Baurus hated patrolling the Temple at night. There was never anyone to talk to - it was just so boring. It didn't help that the flickering candlelight made every shadow a potential assassin, and there always tended to be those strange, quiet night-time noises that turned out to be nothing, even if they _did_ sound like the footsteps of enemies.

_Clang!_

The metallic sounds coming from the armoury, on the other hand, were _not_ quiet. And Baurus seriously doubted that they would turn out to be nothing. Creeping as quietly as he could, he gently pushed open the armoury door. What he saw was... _weird_, to say the least.

It was Pente - apparently, she had returned safely. However, Baurus wasn't entirely sure what she was doing. She appeared to be hacking away at a training target, but her movements were clumsy and erratic. He watched her flailing around, and grew more confused by the second. What was she _doing?_ Trying to blunt her sword?

"Pente?"

"A-agh!" she cried, dropping her weapon to the ground. She picked it up again, quickly. "O-o-oh, hello. I'm b-back. I didn't think you were a-awake, was I making too much noise?"

"You're _crying_." This was too strange. Baurus took a step forward, utterly bewildered. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"No, I'm f-fine."

"Yeah, of course you are. Did Ocato say something to upset you? 'Cause High Elves can be weird. You shouldn't pay too much attention to --"

"He wants me to close more Gates. L-lots of them."

"Oh. Right." That explained why she'd be scared, but... Something still wasn't right. "What're you doing in here, anyway? Trying to break another katana? 'Cause I thought we agreed - no naked Daedra. I don't want you relying on that spell of yours in the Oblivion Gates, okay?"

"I was training."

"_Training_?" Baurus laughed. "That didn't look like training to me. That looked like someone using a sword for the first time and trying to find out which end is the one you hit things with."

There was a short silence. "I know." Pente looked up at Baurus suddenly, desperately - the same look she had given him in the Oblivion Gate yesterday. "I c-can't do it."

"What?" The little declaration was so sudden, and she was so frightened. Baurus was more confused than ever.

"I c-can't." Pente wrung her hands, tears spilling down her face again. "I can't fight. I'm going to get _slaughtered._ Murdered. Squished like a scrib. Completely and utterly a-annihilated--"

"Hey, hey... Stop it." Baurus laid his hands on Pente's shaking shoulders. "What do you mean, you can't fight? You're a hero! We've all seen you fight before."

Pente's voice was no more than a whisper. "When?"

"Lots of times. Like when..." Baurus trailed off, trying to remember all the times he had seen her fight. "When you..."

_Nothing._

Baurus' eyes met Pente's, and his mouth fell open in horror. This couldn't be right... She wasn't... "No _way._"

She nodded feebly, her head in her hands, sobs muffling her voice. "Yes. I haven't f-fought at _all_, not really. I can't. I told you! I told them at Kvatch, too, but they wouldn't listen and things kept _happening_. I'm weak and unskilled and not cut out for this and tomorrow I'm going to get torn to pieces and--"

Baurus grabbed hold of her, pulling her to his chest in a fierce hug. Pente sobbed noisily against him, completely incoherent now. How in Oblivion had she managed to keep this a secret for so long? And why did she keep going off on every mission she was given as if there was nothing the matter? Baurus gritted his teeth. "You... complete... _idiot._"

This was going to take some considerable thought.

* * *

**Notes:** Oh noes! Long chapter is, um, long. Fun fact! It took supreme willpower to not title this chapter "Domo Arigato, Mr. Ocato". :D 


	19. Chapter 19: You Can't Leave Me!

"There's only one thing for it," Baurus announced, shrugging. "Come here. I'm going to have to break your legs."

"N-not funny," Pente mumbled, picking an arrow up from the floor. Just over an hour had passed since her confession, and the two of them had spent the time trying out different weapons. _There has to be something you're good at,_ Baurus had declared. _Nobody can be terrible at everything. You just haven't found the right weapon yet._

Baurus was bloody _wrong_. Apparently, it _was_ possible to be useless at everything. Pente had tried her hand with an axe (too unwieldy), a longsword (too heavy) and a dagger (which was about as effective as attacking a troll with a toothpick). She couldn't even _lift_ the warhammer that Baurus had handed her, and instead sank to the ground, squeaking in dismay. The mer's attempts at destruction magic were also better left unmentioned - after her badly-aimed shock spell hit Baurus by mistake and only succeeded in making his hair stand on end, they quickly gave up on that.

This was _not good.  
_

Pente was currently trying her hand at archery - the Bosmer were supposed to be naturally good with bows, after all. Baurus had patiently explained how to line up the arrow and hold it still while aiming, and had dug through the contents of the armoury to find a bow that would be suitable for her size and strength. In theory, this should be working. Then again, in _theory_, Pente should have been splattered to a pulp back in Kvatch. As she let go of the bowstring, her arrow clattered to the floor at her feet for the sixteenth time. This was _hopeless.  
_

"I wasn't kidding," Baurus continued, cutting into Pente's thoughts. "If I break your legs, you can't go off to close any Oblivion Gates. You'll have to stay here. Relaxing. No danger at all. There might even be _cake_."

"Cake? Will there really be cake? Wait, no! NO. No b-broken legs. I'd get to stay here and eat cake, but I'd kind of be immobile. Injured. Lots of pain." She took a step backwards, just in case Baurus was going to suddenly lunge for her shins. "Pain is bad."

"True. But alive is good."

"So is being a-able to walk." Pente clumsily fitted an arrow to her bowstring again, ready to take aim.

"Why do you have to go at all?" Baurus grumbled. "I could go do it for you. I've seen how to close those things, so I know what to expect. You could stay here and tell Jauffre, uh... that you're sick. Having the shakes would be easy to fake, in your case. Or brain rot."

"Not funny. Aga-- OW!" The string of Pente's bow snapped suddenly, and the loss of tension resulted in the mer smacking herself in the face with the wooden frame. Her eyes watering as she lifted a hand to her nose to check for blood, she turned to Baurus. "I kn-know I get scared a lot, but do you really think I'd let you do that? Go off into Oblivion without me while I sit around eating cake? I'd die. I'd worry myself to death or get nagged into an early grave by mother or burst into flames somehow from the g-guilt or end up falling off one of the watchtowers while I waited for you to come back --"

"And again," Baurus interrupted, "you wouldn't be able to get to the watchtowers if I broke your legs. It's the perfect plan."

"It's so sweet of you to get so e-enthusiastic about the thought of crippling me. R-really nice." Pente managed a weak smile. "I _have_ to go. People are expecting the Hero of Kvatch, after all. If they find out she's too scared to show up, there'll be chaos." She paused. "Plus, I run faster than you now. That's got to be useful."

"Anyone would think you _wanted_ to go back into one of those things." Baurus cast a critical eye over the weapons rack, trying to work out what Pente should try next. "Then again, I guess it's warmer there than here in the mountains. Closing all those Gates would be good for working on a tan."

"I see," Pente sniffed, folding her arms and adopting a mock-offended tone. "Fine. It's not enough that I'm d-doomed, you have to infer that I'm pale and pasty, too?"

"Of course. And you're not doomed! Not if I can help it."

Pente clasped her hands together, hopefully. "Does that mean you'll close the Gates with me? Even though I'm useless?"

He stared at her incredulously. "No, I figured that I'd send you all on your own. It makes so much sense to force the crazy Bosmer to be the one who goes off all by herself to defeat legions of Daedra, not to mention all those assassins--"

She whimpered quietly. "Stop it."

Grinning sheepishly, Baurus shrugged. "Sorry. But did you really think I'd let you go alone?" He rubbed his forehead in a thoughtful manner. "Anyway - we're not having any luck finding you a new weapon, so we'll have to work on what you're already comfortable with." He rolled his eyes at Pente's blank stare. "Relatively speaking. Show me how you'd swing your blade if I was attacking you."

"Okay. U-um, like this." Pente flailed in a less-than-graceful manner, swinging her katana as hard as she could. Looking up hopefully, her face fell as she noted Baurus' expression. "That bad, h-huh?"

Baurus covered his eyes. "Worse. You're throwing all your weight into the swing, so it's leaving you wide open..." He moved his hand from in front of his eyes, staring at the mer in disbelief. "I'm not _complaining_, but how come you're not dead yet?"

Pente shrugged, miserably. "Good luck and good help, I guess."

"Nice answer," Baurus grinned. "Now, come on. You need to move more like _this_..."

* * *

"Let me get this straight," Jauffre said, wearily. "You want me to send out... _this_ to every city in Cyrodiil. This." He held up the piece of parchment that Pente and Baurus had given him, an expression of great suffering on his face.

"Yes, please!" Pente smiled, brightly. "I drew all the extra copies you'll need. It's rather good, isn't it?"

Jauffre looked down at the parchment, speechless. Written in splotchy ink across the top were the words "The Hero of Kvatch's Guide to Oblivion Gates". Underneath that was a series of crude scribbles apparently meant to represent a little figure running to pick up a floating ball, helpfully labelled "Sigil Stone". A set of instructions accompanied the lacklustre illustrations, with the words "_run as fast as you can and don't fall off anything_" being particularly prominent.

"I think they're great. Expressive _and_ informative," supplied Baurus. Jauffre shot him a glare - this would be more tolerable if the Redguard didn't seem to find it all so damned funny.

"Thankyou! Oh, Baurus drew the little Clannfears," Pente continued, pointing helpfully. "That's why they look different."

_That's a Clannfear?_ Jauffre shook his head in despair. He'd thought it was some kind of fanged bird. "I don't understand why this is necessary. Surely if Ocato has requested that you close the Gates, then these... documents are not required."

"It was Baurus' idea," Pente chirped. Jauffre wasn't exactly surprised. "We were thinking, you s-see... We need to get them all closed as fast as possible, right? And we can't be everywhere at once to close them all. So if we let everyone know how it's done, they might be able to close the Gates up themselves."

"Or you could send more Blades to help out, but we thought they'd be better off guarding Martin," Baurus shrugged. "If you disagree, though, we could use the help."

"Fine," Jauffre grumbled, irritably. "I suppose the expense of sending letters is preferable to endangering Martin." He took the little stack of copies from Pente, and sighed in exasperation. "Anything else?"

"Well, um, speaking of expense," Pente squeaked, "would you mind sending some money to Leyawiin along with their copy? The last time I was there, I... There was... Um, a m-misunderstanding."

"She got a bounty on her head fo-- OOF!" Baurus was quickly silenced by a sharp nudge in the ribs and a glare from Pente. Jauffre shook his head.

"I don't want to hear about it. How much?"

"F-four hundred Septims, I th-think."

_Four hundred?_ Jauffre really, _really_ didn't want to hear about what had got the Bosmer in so much trouble. "...Very well. Please go, before you give me any more bad news," he grumbled. He was _not_ in the mood for this today. Apart from losing two Blades to the whims of the blasted High Chancellor and paying out four hundred Septims to stop one of them getting arrested, he was most disgruntled about his missing Akaviri helmet. It had disappeared mysteriously a couple of days ago, and he was really quite vexed about it. None of the spare ones in the armoury fitted properly - _and besides,_ he thought, sulkily, _it's _my _bloody helmet._

Jauffre headed for the library, intending to find Achille and ask him to send the letters. He was friendly with one of the girls at the Mages Guild hall in Bruma, so he could probably get them sent there at a discount. Instead, Jauffre found Martin. The Imperial looked rather shifty, as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. _Hmmm._

"Oh... Jauffre," Martin said, smiling lightly. "Just who I wanted to see. Would you mind if I asked you to send this for me?" He held out a letter, then looked most startled as Jauffre rewarded him with a glare. "Ah, what's wrong?"

"I am not a courier," Jauffre scowled, taking the letter. "So it is quite beyond my understanding why everyone keeps asking _me_ to deliver their mail."

"It only needs to get to Countess Narina. I'd take it myself, if you'd allow it. I assume that's --"

"Not possible. I won't allow you to risk it." Jauffre sighed. "I apologise for being snappy. I just..." He shrugged, helplessly. "I'm just not having the best day."

"Do you want to talk about it?" offered Martin, helpfully. Jauffre glared at the carpet.

"No. What I _want_ is to be able to get a report on yesterday's events without any giggling, blushing, or comments about how _dignified_ High Chancellor Ocato is. Or how _pretty_ his eyes are."

"Pente said that?" Martin tried to imagine his friend giggling over the stuffy Altmer, and shuddered lightly. It just didn't fit.

Jauffre's scowl deepened. "_Aranwen_."

"Ah." Then Jauffre was _jealous_? Somehow that seemed even stranger than Pente cooing over Ocato. _Yuck_.

* * *

"You're sure you don't want to stop off at Chorrol?" Baurus asked, as he and Pente travelled southward down the Silver Road. "It's a lot closer than Anvil. As is, uh, everywhere. We could close the other Gates on the way there."

Pente shook her head stubbornly. "Not a chance. I'm not going into any more of those things until I've learned how to heal stuff." She tapped her bag with a light thud. "The guidebook I took says we need to go to Anvil to learn restoration spells. So that's where we're going first."

Baurus knew better than to argue. "Fair enough. But are you sure that's accurate? Isn't that the same book that has an entire section about how the people are all drunks, lowlifes and godless heathen scum?"

"Well, um, yes. But I'm sure it's right..." Pente trailed off, doubtfully. "What's Anvil like, anyway? It's n-not all filled with thugs, right?"

"No, no. Some of the locals can be a bit... rough around the edges, I guess. But it's not that bad. A nice place, if you know the parts to avoid. You've not been?"

"Nope. I never really travelled much before all this started," Pente explained. "I went to Valenwood when I was little, but I don't remember it. And then I only lived in Kvatch for a day..." She scuffed her boots against the road as she walked, looking at the ground. "I was stuck in the Imperial City most of the time. I never really thought I wanted to travel, but... I don't know. I enjoy it, e-except for the dangerous bits."

"The dangerous bits are the _best_ parts," Baurus grinned. "No journey's complete without a few scrapes with death. Getting into fights, plunging down cliffs..."

Pente raised her eyebrows. "Um. Remind me to never go anywhere with you. E-ever. Why'd I bring you along, again?" She ran a little way ahead and turned around, waving. "Maybe I'd be safer without you. Go tell Jauffre I --"

"Wolf! _Move_!" Baurus interrupted, drawing his blade and rushing forward. Pente turned around and was faced with a huge, snarling wolf, its fangs bared. As she gaped in surprise, the animal drew closer to the ground, ready to pounce. It didn't really seem very friendly, all things considered.

_Oh dear._

Baurus clapped his hands over his ears as Pente threw back her head and let out a deafening screech, causing him to reflexively drop his weapon in shock. Cursing, he bent to pick it up. "What're you..." He trailed off, almost dropping it again. The wolf was wandering off, a look of canine confusion on its face.

"Bosmer," Pente mumbled, pointing to herself. "We can command animals. Even _I_ can do it, even if it sounds a bit... um, r-rough." She shrugged. "Pity it doesn't work on D-daedra. Or ghosts. Or skeletons. Or Mythic Dawn assassins."

"Yeah. A pity." Baurus shook his head. He'd known the mer was good at screaming, but he had no idea it could be _useful_.

* * *

Jauffre's day wasn't getting any better, much to his dismay. Everything seemed to be utterly chaotic, even by recent standards. First there had been Pente and Baurus' little scheme, then Roliand had taken it upon himself to use all their alchemy supplies without bothering to tell anyone or clean up the mess, and soon after that Jena and Caroline had been involved in what could only be described as a catfight. Over Steffan, if the rumours were to be believed. No wonder he'd been strutting around the courtyard with that smug grin on his face all week.

What's more, his _bloody _ helmet was still missing. It was irritating Jauffre far more than it should. He sighed and thoughtfully stroked his chin - he couldn't help but think that all this would be more tolerable if it wasn't for --

"Jauffrekins!"

...Aranwen.

"Jauffrekins! Goodness, you're hard to find today. I've been looking all over for you, sweetie!" Aranwen strolled through the library towards the Breton and linked her arm through his, smiling brightly. "It's almost like you've been avoiding me. How absurd!"

"I don't know what would give you _that_ idea," Jauffre muttered. He really wasn't in the mood for this. Aranwen giggled girlishly and enveloped him in a crushing hug.

"Ohh, you're not still upset because of what I said about Ocato, are you? Silly! Don't sulk, dearest. It's very unbecoming for a man in your position."

"I am _not_ sulking," said Jauffre, who clearly was.

"Sweetie. _Darling_. The High Chancellor may have pretty eyes, but _you _ are pretty all over," Aranwen cooed, hugging him tighter for emphasis. "And I --"

"Oh!" A female voice cried, loudly. "I'm sorry. Are we interrupting something?" Jauffre felt Aranwen tense up, her posture rigid as she let go of him and turned around.

"What's _she_ doing here?"

Countess Narina was standing in the doorway, looking slightly amused. Martin was with her, but he seemed more flustered than anything else. Jauffre looked from one to the other, wondering why he never seemed to know what was going on anymore. "Countess? I wasn't aware that you would be... Greetings." He inclined his head respectfully, still very confused.

"My apologies," Martin said, guiltily. "I forgot to tell you that I had requested Narina's help with finding out more about Great Welkynd Stones. For the Mysterium Xarxes ritual," he clarified, pulling books from the shelves thoughtfully. "Though I assume you don't mind, considering the circumstances."

"Not at all," Jauffre replied, helplessly shrugging his shoulders. "Any assistance you need is perfectly fine. Uhm, carry on." He left the room, Aranwen at his side, and sighed heavily. No, he definitely wasn't in control today. The Grandmaster was seriously beginning to consider just going back to bed and hiding for the rest of the afternoon.

Aranwen muttered darkly to herself. "Hussy... Moving in on that poor, naive young priest while my Pente's off saving the world... Some women, _honestly_, it's not difficult to see how _she_ must have got such a high position in society..."

"Countess Narina Carvain was born into her status," Jauffre stated, loudly. "And she is a fair, just ruler who I personally do not mind our future Emperor spending time with. She may be able to teach him something, and if she helps with the current situation, all the better." Jauffre kept walking, preparing for the inevitable Aranwen-explosion.

Oddly, it never came. "Oh," she said, deflating slightly. Folding her arms, Aranwen assumed a stubborn expression that was reminiscent of her daughter's sulkier moments. "Well, I suppose you might be right. As long as she doesn't try anything _funny._"

Jauffre suddenly felt much better. The majority of Cloud Ruler might be in chaos, but unless he was much mistaken, he had just succeeded in making Aranwen see sense. _Aranwen? Sense? By the Nine!_

Now, if he could just find that _bloody_ helmet...

* * *

Styrbrand's head was foggy. It also hurt. His shoulders, too. And his legs. In fact, he decided, pretty much _everywhere_ was aching and sore. Last night must've been _wild!_ He just wished he could remember it. Or even just remember why he was lying naked in the grass outside Anvil.

As the fog of sleep cleared from Styrbrand's mind, he froze. _Wait._ Lying naked in a public place was a _bad_ thing, wasn't it? A quick glance at the sun suggested it was afternoon - how long had he been out here? And _why_ was he out here? All he could remember was those women...

_Ah!_ The Nord clenched his fists as he started to recall last night's events. He had gone to the meeting place, then... They'd offered him a drink, hadn't they? A _lot_ of drinks. But this didn't feel like a hangover, so he must have been... been...

_Drugged._ By the Nine! How could he have been so careless? They'd drugged him, and taken... well, everything. Literally. _Damn them!_

Suddenly aware of how vulnerable he was, the Nord cursed under his breath. Half running and half crawling, he quickly hid himself behind a nearby tree. He could hear _voices. _Sure, he was a paragon of manliness, but that didn't mean he wanted complete strangers to see him in all his... glory. Peering from behind the tree, Styrbrand could see a Redguard strolling towards the city. Fully aware that he couldn't hide behind the tree forever, he decided to just get this over with.

"Uhh, hey! You! Redguard!"

The Redguard looked around for a second, before spotting Styrbrand's arm frantically waving at him from behind the tree. "Um, hi?" he called, a note of suspicion in his voice.

"Could you, uh... Give me a little help?" Styrbrand asked, glancing around. "I, uh, just..."

The Redguard turned to his companion and muttered something before walking towards the tree. "Okay, but no funny stuff. I'm armed, you kn-- by the NINE!"

"GAH!" Styrbrand choked, horrified. "Don't... It's... I... Don't I know you?"

"In the name of Talos, _cover yourself_. Styrbrand, isn't it?" The Redguard kept his eyes firmly fixed on the sky. "It's me. Baurus. I was one of the Emperor's bodyguards. It's nice to see you again. Wait, uh... Never mind."

"Oh, of course. I, uhh... I don't suppose you have any spare clothes?" Styrbrand asked, pathetically. It was hard to be imposing and manly in such a situation, after all.

"Baurus?" The Redguard's companion called, wandering over. "Wh-what are you doing? That almost sounds like-- AAHH!"

The Bosmer's high-pitched scream was caused by Baurus suddenly turning around and hurling himself at her, dragging her unceremoniously to the ground. Hurriedly, he placed a hand over the mer's eyes. "Don't look. Don't. It's for your own good. Go back over there, close your eyes, and don't open them until I tell you it's safe."

"B-but!"

"Just trust me on this. There are some things that just shouldn't be seen."

"Hey!" Styrbrand protested, "Just what are you trying to say?"

The Bosmer fell still. "Is that Styrbrand?"

Styrbrand felt his heart skip. That squeaky little voice was _horribly_ familiar. "No," he whispered. "It can't be. Not possible." The muscle in his jaw was twitching again. "_You_?"

Eyes still covered, Pente gave a sheepish little cough. "Um, h-hello again."

"YOU!" screeched the Nord, all else forgotten. "You! _Usurper!_ You've followed me here, too? It wasn't enough that you chased me from my hometown, stole my destiny and made a mockery of my dreams?!" His hands flexed convulsively as he fought the urge to run over and strangle the mer. "If I had my sword, I swear I'd --"

"Right." Baurus helped Pente up, keeping her eyes covered, and began to walk away. "If you're going to talk like that, you won't be wanting our help. Good luck."

"No! Wait!" Styrbrand yelled, rage replaced by utter horror. "You can't leave me!"

"What's wrong with him?" Pente asked, as they walked away towards the city. "Is he hurt?" Baurus mumbled something into her ear, and she blushed. "Ohhh. Then shouldn't we help? I, uh... It's not nice to be, um, exposed in public."

"You should know," Baurus said, unable to hold back a grin. "Well, I don't have any spare gear on me. So unless you're carrying around clothes that'd fit a huge Nord, we'll have to go buy some, then come back to help him out. But letting him think we're abandoning him should make him more grateful when we return, right? And hopefully less murderous." They had now walked a safe distance away from Styrbrand, and Baurus uncovered Pente's eyes. "What did you _do_ to him, anyway?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Pente admitted. "I think it's got something to do with m-me _existing_."

* * *

**Notes: **If only Pente's unicorn nightdress was big enough to fit Styrbrand. I'm sure he'd look awesome in it. Dashing! Manly! Amazingly ridiculous! Yay! 


	20. Chapter 20: Antics in Anvil

Pente decided that she didn't like the Mages Guild very much. Apart from the guild hall reeking strongly of dubious mixtures of alchemy ingredients, the people seemed so... _snobby._ The mages who weren't too absorbed in their study to notice her enter the building seemed to watch her with an air of interest as she passed, and Pente quietly wondered if it had been such a good idea to come here after all. _Can they tell I'm useless, or something? Why are people s-staring so much? Maybe I should just go back and find Baurus. Buying clothes can't be this intimidating..._

_No! I can't run away. This is important!_ Taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the stares, Pente glanced around in the hope of spotting someone who looked vaguely friendly. Her eyes finally fell upon a fellow Bosmer sitting in a corner, and she decided he'd do nicely. Sure, he was talking to what seemed to be a pet _imp_, but otherwise he seemed to be harmless enough. Still, Pente decided she should probably make this as quick as possible. The kind of Wood Elves who kept imps were invariably the _oddest_ of mer, and mages in general were weird creatures in Pente's eyes, anyway. Hopefully this guy wouldn't be one of the crazy ones. She strode purposefully towards the Bosmer, smiling as confidently as she could. "Um, hello. This is where I can learn healing spells, right?" She glanced at the imp, who flapped its way towards her curiously. "U-um, does he bite?"

"No. Yes! Wait, yes, _then_ no." The Bosmer's brow furrowed. "Yes, I can teach you about restoration. No, Sparky doesn't bite. There!"

_By the Nine - he _is_one of the crazy ones_. "Oh, um, g-good. Can you help me with an easy spell, please? Just a simple one. Nothing too advanced." Pente smiled more widely, desperately trying to ignore the imp, who was now tugging at a lock of her hair.

"Yes, yes, no problem! But... do you mind telling me - is it true? Are you the Hero of Kvatch? Miss Pente?"

The quiet buzz of conversation stopped completely, leaving Pente horribly aware that pretty much everyone in the guild hall was now listening in to her conversation. "Um, well, u-uh... Kind of. H-how did you know? I don't --" She was cut off as the curious little imp pushed its fingers into her mouth, babbling curiously. Recoiling, Pente spluttered in horror. _Ugh!  
_

"Sparky!" The Bosmer snapped, making a shrill noise that caused his pet to back off. "I'm sorry, miss. It means he likes you. He must know you're a great hero, eh?" He smiled, clasping his hands together and sighing happily. "I'm Thaurron, by the way. A pleasure to make your acquaintance!"

"Um, ch-charmed," Pente choked, resisting the urge to spit. Apparently, imps tasted _foul_. That was definitely knowledge she could have lived without. "So, would you mind teaching me? Please?"

"Of course, it's no trouble! Anything to help you close that Gate out there. It's making us all very nervous," Thaurron confided, busying himself with an untidy pile of scrolls as he spoke. "Now, would you like a touch spell? Or self-healing only? And we don't just offer restoration spells; we could also provide you with some basic magic from the _other _ schools..."

"Um, uh..." All this was making her feel slightly overwhelmed, and Pente chewed on her thumbnail anxiously. "Well, um, I'll need something to heal other people with. Oh, but maybe myself, too. It's probably best to be cautious. J-just in case." _After all_, she thought, sensibly, _I can't run away from everything. That would be useful, though, I wonder if they have a spell for that.._.?

Thaurron pulled a piece of parchment from his pile, smiling enthusiastically. "Yes, very good, that'll be no problem. Could you just sign your name here for me, please?"

"O-oh, of course." Pente fumbled in her travel bag for a quill. "Some kind of magical contract thing? I don't really know much about how this works..." she trailed off into silence, staring at the parchment in front of her.

"No, no. Just an autograph on a copy of your wonderful work," Thaurron trilled. "We're all fans of your guide that you sent - it's most informative. If you could just sign it there, under the Clannfear..."

* * *

"All set?" asked Baurus. Pente practically skipped out of the Mages Guild hall towards him, beaming happily.

"Yes! Look, I can do it! Watch." She reached out towards Baurus, her hand shimmering slightly, and quickly flicked her fingers to release the spell. Faint twinkles of light sank into the Redguard's skin, and Pente hopped excitedly. "See?"

"That's..." Baurus looked towards the sky, lost for words. Pente's spell felt lukewarm and washed lightly over him - nothing like the pleasantly hot sensation that the High Elf healer had sent into his arm back in Bruma. "That's great!" he enthused, deciding that encouraging her was far better than crushing her sudden optimism... Even if the optimism was unfounded at best.

"O-oh..." Pente stood on tip-toe and gave Baurus a swift kiss, smiling affectionately. "You don't have to make me feel better, I know it's not very good. But I can only get better at it, r-right?"

"Right. And anyway, it's better than I can do." Baurus held up a wedge of cloth, motioning towards the city gates. "I got something to cover up our good friend out there, anyhow. You want to come and play hero?"

"Okay!" Pente squeaked, still slightly giddy over her achievements. "Um, maybe you'd better be the one who actually gives him the clothes, though. Considering the, um, s-situation." They started walking towards the city gates, eager to get this over with.

"Oh, and I was thinking it'd be a great idea to get _you_ to go talk to the crazy naked Nord. Really," Baurus said, rolling his eyes. "Much as I don't want to see... _that_, I wouldn't inflict it on you. Not that I'm feeling threatened. At all. In any way. Just wanted to make that clear before you get one of those weird ideas of yours."

"Do I sound that silly when _I_ babble like that?" Pente asked, thoughtfully. "I never realised. Um, whereabouts did we leave him, anyway? I couldn't see, because _someone _ was covering my eyes and --"

A familiar booming voice floated towards them on the cool evening air. "Friends! Fellow agents of justice! You came back! I _knew_ you would."

Baurus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "He's behind the tree again. Wait there, I'll be back in a second."

"Alright." Pente nibbled her lip thoughtfully and rocked on the balls of her feet as she waited for Baurus to return. Hopefully Styrbrand would be a bit less grumpy now that she had helped him out instead of usurping his destiny or... whatever it was that he kept yelling about. He might even be friendly, and if she was _really_ lucky, perhaps he'd stop twitching every time he looked in her general direction.

"Thankyou! By the gods, thankyou for your aid!"

"A-ah!" Pente gasped, jumping back instinctively as Styrbrand's voice blasted out right above her head. Did he _really_ have to be so loud? "Oh, you're, um, welcome. It was Baurus, really. And Jauffre's money, I suppose. Um. So this means you aren't going to kill me anymore?" she asked, ready to flee if he replied negatively.

"Kill you? Hah!" Styrbrand bellowed, slapping Pente on the back and almost knocking her to the ground. "You should know that Styrbrand the Unbelievably Mighty would never lift his sword to harm such a..." He hesitated, slightly. "...such a fair maiden."

Pente blinked. "But you said --"

"Don't remind him," Baurus suggested, quietly. Pente nodded, shutting up hurriedly.

"So," Styrbrand said, with an air of forced casualness, "You two... You're here to close the Gate? Save the town? Generally get glory and fame and... you know. Hero stuff?"

"Yeah," replied Baurus, eyebrow raised. "I'm surprised you didn't try it yourself, as you're _such_ a hero..."

The mild insult was lost on Styrbrand, who clenched his fists. "They wouldn't _let_ me! The guards, they... They said nobody could go near the Gate unless they were the Hero of Kvatch." He looked hopefully down at Pente. "So if I was with _you_..."

"You don't have a weapon. Or armour. Or anything at all," Baurus cut in, bluntly. "We're not taking anyone in there who won't be able to defend themselves. It's too dangerous." He ignored Pente's anxious little squeak in response - she didn't count.

"That's not... They were stolen!" Styrbrand banged a fist against his chest in anguish. "Those curs stole my sword, my armour, and my _dignity!_ Everything! You have to lend me a blade and let me close the Gate with you. You must. I have to regain my _pride_," he finished, dramatically.

Baurus was unmoved. "We don't have any spare weapons, or enough spare money to buy you one. Sorry, but you'll have to --"

"Wait! Wait, he can borrow mine!" Pente piped up, hastily. It wouldn't be much use to her, after all. She held out her Akaviri katana for Styrbrand's approval, but he shook his head.

"No, this is useless in the hands of a mighty warrior such as myself. One swipe of it with my manly arms, and the blade would snap like a... Like something that snaps easily." He shrugged, carelessly. "_Real_ men don't use such puny weapons!"

There was a loaded silence as everyone's eyes were drawn to the katana sheathed at Baurus' waist. The Redguard glared. "Oh?"

"What? Uh, except you. Obviously," Styrbrand amended, waving a dismissive hand. "But _real _m-- I mean, _I_ prefer a claymore. Mine was magnificent," he sighed, wistfully. "Huge. Jewelled handle, perfectly polished blade, honed to an incomparable sharpness..."

"Who took it?" Pente asked, unable to imagine anyone being able to disarm the huge Nord. His face clouded as he answered.

"Those _women_. Harpies! They tricked me, drugged me, then... They took it. Everything. Umm... If only I had a way to get revenge," he said, looking at Pente out of the corner of his eye. "Someone who would help me get justice... I'd be very grateful..."

"Um, just a moment," Pente blurted, dragging Baurus a few feet away to discuss the matter. She looked up at him, hopefully. "Can we help him out, maybe? We could use the extra assistance in the Gate, right?"

"Do we have to?" Baurus grumbled, clearly disgruntled. He'd forgotten what a pompous ass the Nord was, and really didn't want to spend too much time in his presence. Then again, more help would definitely be a good thing... He shook his head frustratedly. "I guess we should. But if he gets out of hand, I get to shove him in the Abecean."

Pente nodded in response. Approaching Styrbrand again, Baurus let out a tired sigh. "Okay, we'll help you get your stuff back. But you're going to have to tell us _exactly_ what happened..."

* * *

"Ceyatatar's been ransacked already," Narina sighed, putting aside _Glories and Laments_ as she stifled a yawn. "Sorry."

"Damn," Martin mumbled quietly, scribbling a note on his map. He hadn't expected this to be easy, but he had to admit that he was getting worried. It was one thing to say that Great Welkynd Stones were rare, but what if they were all gone? What would happen _then_? Everything would be lost...

"Don't worry," Narina said, as if aware of Martin's thoughts. "I'm sure we'll find one. There's got to be something useful in here," she sighed, motioning at the huge pile of books they had yet to get through. "It'd be easier if it was something related to Akavir we were looking for - then we'd have a headstart on any knowledge required. I'm afraid I'm not much help when it comes to Ayleid artifacts."

"You're being very helpful," Martin protested. "I couldn't have got through so many books without you." Narina smiled sleepily in response, and Martin's tone changed to one of concern. "Are you tired? It _is_ getting rather late. This is important work, but I doubt Jauffre would be too happy if he discovered I'd caused the Countess of Bruma to collapse with exhaustion."

Narina's lips twisted into an amused smile. "Indeed. Think of the rumours."

Martin spluttered with laughter - it was _so_ nice to be spoken to like Martin, not '_Dragonborn Martin, Emperor-To-Be And Guy To Be Treated Cautiously_'. It was part of why he enjoyed Narina's company so much, he supposed. "The Black Horse Courier would love that. But seriously, are you alright? We've been reading for hours. It can't be much fun being stuck here reading all day."

"Oh, I don't know. The company's good," Narina smiled. "What do you do around here that's more fun than spending the day reading, anyway?"

"Well, I..." Martin stammered, flustered. "You see, ah, there's not really very many activities around here that I can do, so..."

"You read."

"Yes." Martin grinned, sheepishly. "But while I might be trapped here with only books for company, that's no reason to inflict the same fate upon you."

Narina gave him a piercing look. "How long did you say you'd been here?"

"Ahh..." Martin tried to think. When every day was much like the next, they tended to run together somewhat. He really wasn't sure exactly how long he'd been stuck in Cloud Ruler, to be completely honest. "How long ago was Kvatch attacked?"

The Countess shook her head in disbelief. "Wait. You're losing track of time, you're stuck in the same place doing the same things with the same people every single day, and Jauffre thinks it's doing you good? Martin, you're going to end up losing your mind."

"Well," said Martin, evenly, "at least that should make things more interesting."

"Yes. Interesting." Narina closed her eyes momentarily, unsure whether she was frustrated or amused. "Well, there's only one solution to all this. I'll just have to continue visiting so I can keep you company, won't I?"

"So you can speed up my descent into madness? That's very kind of you."

Narina laughed, but was prevented from responding by the arrival of a certain auburn-haired Wood Elf bustling into the room. Humming a happy little tune, Aranwen patted Martin on the head. "Marty, dearest, I made soup. Are you coming to join us for dinner?" She looked down her nose at Narina, sniffing. "I'm sorry, but I doubt there's enough for _you_. I would have prepared more, but I'd assumed that you'd be _gone_ by now..."

"I'll be along in a minute," Martin sighed. Recognising the dismissal, Aranwen flounced off, still humming to herself. The mer really seemed happy about something, though Martin had no idea what it could be. Knowing Aranwen, it was probably better not to ask.

"I _should_ probably be going," Narina said, yawning widely. "You know, I get the feeling that Jauffre's wife doesn't like me very much."

"Whatever gives you _that _idea? She isn't his wife, though," Martin explained.

"Oh," Narina nodded. "They're living in _sin_."

Martin winced. "Something like that."

* * *

_G-gosh. This is so wonderful, I..._

Pente felt her heart race as she struggled to come up with the right words. Voicing her feelings was hard, especially when speech didn't quite cover the deep, emotional sentiment she needed to express. She drew in a deep breath before speaking, not wanting to spoil the special moment. "I... I have to tell you something. It's about you... Well, _us_, really. You're really very special to me, you know." Pente licked her lips and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously. "Y-you see, I... I think I love you. Ever since I saw you, I knew we had something special, that you had to be m-mine --"

"Pente," Baurus said, rolling his eyes, "you realise that the cake can't talk back, right?"

"Hush," Pente murmured, still staring dreamily at the generous slice of sweetcake in front of her. "We're having a _moment_." She had been utterly thrilled to learn that the Flowing Bowl actually sold cake, and now had to agree with Baurus that Anvil seemed to be a pretty nice place. _This is the kind of thing that Alessia Caro should put into her guidebooks, _Pente thought. _The availability of cake. It's useful to know._

Styrbrand had explained what had happened in the tavern last night, though not without alternating between fits of rage and gushing comments about exactly how buxom the two women had been. Baurus had suggested that the best option would be to spend the evening in the Flowing Bowl, wait for the women to show up, and then follow them at a distance when they left. Of course, it would have been much simpler if Styrbrand could remember where he had gone to meet his attackers, but that seemed to be one of the little details that had slipped the Nord's memory. Much like everything except the women's attractiveness, to be honest. At least that meant he had managed to offer a good description of the two, though.

"What is he _doing_?!" Baurus hissed, suddenly. Pente turned to follow his line of sight, and noticed Styrbrand peering out from the stairwell of the inn. He was supposed to be hiding in one of the rooms upstairs; if the women saw him again, they'd know better than to stick around, after all. "I'm going to go get rid of him," Baurus continued, getting to his feet and storming towards the Nord. Pente sighed and finished off her cake, snippets of their whispered conversation floating her way.

"They're not here yet! I just wanted a drink. I'm a Nord, it's --"

"Yeah, it's what you do, sure. What you _should_ be doing is getting back up those stairs. See, I'm a Redguard, and what _we_ do involves dunking thick-headed Nords into the sea if they won't see sense..."

Pente looked down at her empty plate, unable to stop the smile crossing her face. She was vaguely aware of people entering the bar, causing a slight commotion, but she didn't look up. She could hear what sounded like a very put-out Nord being dragged up the stairs, and the Bosmer couldn't help but wonder just how much further Baurus would have to be pushed before he really did shove Styrbrand into the Abecean Sea.

"Excuse me," a haughty female voice said, snapping Pente's attention away from her companions' antics. "May I have a word?"

"B-buh?" Pente squeaked, her heart pounding. The speaker was tall, dark-haired, and generously curvy. Surely this was...

"Excellent. I'm Faustina." The woman sat down in the seat that Baurus had recently vacated. "I'll get straight to the point. You look like someone who could do with a few extra Septims."

"Eh?" Pente followed Faustina's gaze down to her plain green tunic, which was slightly worn and frayed at the seams. "Oh."

"Um, yes," the Imperial coughed. "Anyway, my friend and I couldn't help but notice that you don't seem to have any trouble attracting male attention..."

"Wha'?" babbled Pente, thoroughly confused now. A pretty Nord joined them at the table, sneering slightly.

"She's not done more than squeak, you know. Are you sure she speaks Cyrodiilic?"

"Hush, Signy."

"Of course I can s-speak!" Pente stuttered, indignantly. "But I don't know what you mean. I don't have trouble...?"

"You didn't notice?" Faustina asked, pointing at a table further across the room. Pente turned to look and her heart sank as she noticed Thaurron sitting with a group of his friends. She smiled weakly as the mer waved cheerily at her, and his table erupted into excited murmurs. Apparently, they were aware of who exactly she was. Pente's cheeks burned with embarrassment - great. It was _lovely_ to know that a group of excitable people had been watching the Hero of Kvatch stuff her face with cake. Really.

"We thought you'd like the opportunity to put your... _talents_ to good use," Faustina continued. "You could join our group, make lots of money..." Misinterpreting Pente's horrified expression, she quickly shook her head. "Oh, no, no! We aren't _whores_. We lure men in, show them a bit of skin, then take them for everything they've got. Sound like fun?"

"I _hope_ it sounds like fun," Signy cut in, brightly. "Because now that Faustina's told you about what we do, you either join us or we arrange an _accident_ for you." She shot the Imperial a glare. "You can thank her for that later."

"Ummm..." Pente glanced around nervously, and caught sight of Baurus. He was standing at the bar watching her, and she shot him a desperate little look. He shrugged slightly in response, along with a sympathetic grimace. He patted the katana hilt attached to his belt, and Pente felt slightly reassured. If this went wrong, she'd just have to run and hide behind him.

_Same as usual, then._

"Um, o-okay. That, um, sounds lovely. Really nice. Yes, a life of deception and c-crime. Perfect! Excellent. Just what I've always wanted. Mother would be happy, she always wanted me to get out and meet more men. Though she never mentioned robbing them. But, um, it's all, uh, g-good, isn't it? Um, y-yay! When do I s-start?" Pente smiled a slightly manic smile, clasping her hands together to stop them shaking.

"You could start now, as you're so eager," Faustina purred. "Just go pick out a man, snare him, and then ask him to meet you at Gweden Farm. Go ahead, it's easy."

"U-um... Alright. Yes." Pente got to her feet. "A man. Right. Gweden Farm, you said?"

"Yes. Go on, we'll wait here."

"A-alrighty." Pente scurried towards Baurus and sat next to him at the bar, safely out of earshot. "Um. Hello there, uh, stranger. Come here often?" she asked, breaking out in nervous giggles.

"What in Talos' name are you doing?!" Baurus murmured, looking back at the women furtively. "You know that's them, right? The people you were chatting away with?"

"Um, yes. They approached _me_, it's not my fault! And, um, I think they recruited me into their gang," Pente explained. Baurus closed his eyes, looking both incredibly amused and utterly defeated. "And now I have to, um, snare them a victim. So hi."

"Ohh. Okay, go ahead. _Seduce_ me," Baurus cackled. Pente chewed her thumbnail.

"You, um... Have pretty eyes?"

"By the Nine." Baurus covered his eyes, shaking with laughter. "You're lucky they didn't hear that, you know. So what're you supposed to do now? Strip me and take my dignity?" He paused. "Actually, that doesn't sound too bad."

"Sh-shut up!" Pente squeaked, blushing. "N-no, I'm supposed to tell you to come to Gweden Farm. Presumably to be stripped of your d-dignity _there_."

"How can I refuse? Gods. Does that mean you have to go with them, now?" the Redguard asked, suddenly looking concerned. "Will you be okay?"

"S-sure," Pente replied, trying to sound brave. "But you'll hurry up and follow us, right? So I won't be there too long?"

"Of course. I'll be right there. Styrbrand, too." Baurus smiled, supportively. "See you soon."

"Th-thanks." Pente waved, shakily, and returned to the women. "He says he'll come. Shall we go?"

"Yeah, let's hurry. That was quick work for a beginner," Faustina said, admiringly. As they walked towards the exit, Baurus' voice raised above the general hum of noise in the tavern.

"Goodbye! I'll be right with you, darling-dearest Pennykins!"

Pente laughed out loud and waved, her nervous air dispelled. "See you soon, _Baury-bear_!"

"Cutesy saccharine nicknames _already_?" Signy whispered, nudging Faustina in the ribs. "_Damn_, she's good."

* * *

** Notes: **Ten points to anyone who got the "Bosmers with pet imps" reference. :D 


	21. Chapter 21: Overcompensating

Gweden Farm was a wholly unremarkable-looking place, really. It just looked like every other farmhouse Baurus had ever seen - stone walls and a little rickety fence surrounded a half-hearted effort at a vegetable garden, all topped off with a charmingly stereotypical thatched roof. So far, so mundane. He had circled the building and checked all the windows, but all the curtains were drawn closed. There was no way of finding exactly what was waiting in there ahead of time.

_Perfect._ Baurus always did like surprises.

"Hey. Hey, Redguard." Styrbrand prodded Baurus in the shoulder impatiently. "Is it time to bust in there yet? All this sneaking... It's fine if you're not confident in your skills, but --"

"Let me guess. _Real men _don't check things out first, they barge their way in without thinking and get people killed." Baurus rolled his eyes. "Great plan, genius."

Styrbrand put his hands on his hips, a proud grin spreading across his face. "Hey, thanks. Do you think I should add 'genius' to my list of titles? It's getting a bit long now, but, you know. A man's worth can only be measured against his achievements, of course. Does 'genius' sound too wimpy to you? What titles do _you_ have, again?"

"I'm Baurus the Exasperated."

"That doesn't sound very heroic. You should work on that. Maybe _Baurus the Somewhat Mighty_ would be a good start. I mean, obviously you're not ready for the prestige of being _unbelievably_ mighty, but --"

"How about Baurus, Slayer of Irritating Nords?"

"That's a bit better, but still lacking something. And everyone knows Nords can't be bested by puny Redguards - you have to be _realistic_," Styrbrand said. Baurus rolled his eyes.

"No, they just get beaten by pretty girls who don't even have to draw weapons. Now be _quiet_," he growled. "Just wait out here. If it sounds like trouble, _then_ you can come in. If not, stay hidden. I don't want you messing this up."

"Why?" asked Styrbrand. "Are you trying to keep me from my chance for revenge? I get it - you want the glory for yourself, so you're taking my chance to regain my honour! Well --"

"SHHH!" the Redguard hissed. Why had he agreed to help this guy? "They'll recognise you if you go in there, and that'll put Pente in danger. And besides," he added, adopting a passable imitation of Styrbrand's voice, "I thought you'd _never lift a blade to harm a fair maiden_."

Styrbrand pouted. "I don't _have_ a blade. They stole it."

This was getting them nowhere. Baurus glared and assumed the tone and posture of someone speaking to a naughty puppy. "Just _stay here_." He knocked loudly on the farmhouse door, letting out a frustrated sigh as he did so. Already, this was _not_ going well.

"Um, come in!" a familiar voice called, muffled through the wooden door. Baurus cautiously opened the door, then froze in his tracks. Failing miserably at suppressing the snort of mirth that bubbled up from within him, he grinned widely. "Wow. Hi, Aranwen. Seen Pennykins anywhere?"

Pente scowled. "Shut up. Just s-shut up." She was wearing a dress that was clearly too big for her, along with a smear of red lipstick across her mouth that she had apparently tried to wipe away. It really did look like Aranwen had been appointed as her stylist. Scrubbing at her lips with the sleeve of the oversized dress, she waved her other hand at a door behind her. "The others are in the basement. I'm supposed to go and get them when you've drunk that," she explained, motioning towards a bottle on a nearby table.

"Drugged?"

"Yes. Before you got here, that Imperial was telling me about a big dumb Nord who managed to drink three bottles of it before he finally passed out."

"Big dumb Nord. No idea who _that_ could've been," Baurus grinned. "D'you want to see if they'd like to meet him again?"

"O-okay," Pente nervously stuttered. _Ugh - confrontation._ It was late, she was tired, and definitely didn't think that helping Styrbrand had been one of her best ideas. This wasn't going to be fun. Pente turned towards the basement door and opened it, calling softly into the semi-darkness. "F-Faustina?"

The sound of eager footsteps clattered up the stairs as Faustina responded. "He's out of it already? By the grace of Mara, I expected it to take longer than..." her voice faded as she reached the top of the basement steps. "What's going on?"

Baurus waved, wiggling his fingers in a friendly manner. "Hi, there. I think you have something that belongs to someone I know. Big guy, blonde, not the smartest..."

"Signy! Tsarrina!" screeched Faustina, snarling and drawing back slightly. "She brought a bloody _guard!"_

The sound of more footsteps came from below, and Pente squeaked miserably as Baurus handed her the katana she had left behind in the Flowing Bowl. She really, _really _ hoped this wouldn't come to a fight. Her level of competence certainly wouldn't be improved by having to manoeuvre herself in the oversized dress, after all. As Faustina's companions rushed into the room, Pente's heart sank. They _were_ armed, and in such an enclosed space it would be difficult to avoid getting hurt. Even harder than _usual_, anyway, especially since they were outnumbered.

Faustina seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "It's three against two!" she crowed. "So if you wouldn't mind just dropping all your valuables --"

"You mean three against _three!"_

Everyone flinched as the door to the farmhouse was kicked open to reveal Styrbrand, who was looking unspeakably majestic. The effect wasn't even ruined by the fact that he seemed to be wielding a slightly damp tree branch in place of a sword. Not _much_, anyway. Pente was suddenly stricken with the urge to applaud, just like the first time she had seen the Nord make one of his dramatic entrances. This time, however, she managed to restrain herself.

"Show-off," muttered Baurus, turning back to the women. Styrbrand let out a little outraged noise, but said nothing.

"Oh." Faustina looked back at Signy and Tsarrina, who merely shrugged helplessly. "Hello, um, Styr. Lovely to see you again."

"A pity I can't say the same for _you,_" roared Styrbrand, dramatically swishing his branch around. "I want my things back. Now. Or I'll... uh..."

"Give them splinters?" supplied Baurus.

"I'll do _something_," Styrbrand blustered. "You'd better not have messed anything up. If there's even _one scratch_ on my armour, I --"

"We're not giving up, are we?!" Signy interrupted, glancing desperately at Faustina. "We can take on this rabble, no problem! The big guy's armed with a damn _twig_, the Redguard is --"

"A member of the Blades," Baurus said, shrugging almost apologetically. "Not just a guard. Sorry."

Signy faltered slightly. "...well, the Wood Elf can't be much trouble. She's small and weedy and --"

Baurus interrupted again. "...And she's the Hero of Kvatch. You might've heard of her."

Tsarrina dropped her weapon instantly, raising her arms in surrender. "Enough. This One knows when it is hopeless!"

Signy lowered her own blade, clenching her teeth as she did so. "Gods damn it..."

"Ugh." Faustina flung her sword to one side in a petulant display of anger. "_Bugger._"

* * *

Martin didn't know where he was.

Whirling around in a panic, he tried to get his bearings. This was _not_ where he had fallen asleep. The room he was in was dark, the walls were burnt and the contents of the room were strewn everywhere, spilling from boxes and crates. Martin shivered at the sight of the small bed next to the window - it had been turned over onto one side, and the sheets were ripped to shreds. It didn't take a genius to figure out that something terrible had happened here...

It probably wasn't the best place to find himself in without any explanation, then. _Damn!_ Stepping over an upturned wardrobe, Martin's panic mounted. He pinched himself, unable to believe what was happening. _This has to be a dream! It's just impossible --_

_Oh._

Martin pinched himself again, just to be sure. No - he couldn't feel a thing. Then this _was_ a dream, apparently, albeit a very vivid one. Well, that was reassuring! Feeling far less disturbed about his surroundings, Martin left the room. It would probably be best to just relax and let the dream unfold.

The rest of the house was equally as devastated as the bedroom, but Martin barely noticed the chaos as his feet led him outside. Ah - _now_ he knew where he was. _Kvatch. _ The city looked exactly the same as it did when he had left with Pente all that time ago - the fires were still burning, dead Daedra were still dotted around the street and there were no signs of life anywhere.

_Still..._ The Imperial's stomach lurched in a violent pang of homesickness as he walked towards the city gates. He missed his old life terribly at times - everything had changed so suddenly, so irreversibly. Even though he thought he was adjusting well, it was still hard. While he had convinced everyone at Cloud Ruler Temple to stop calling him "Emperor", there were few people left who really thought of him as just Martin.

"Marty" _didn't count_.

Outside the city, the dream only got stranger. Martin walked northeast along the Gold Road, vaguely wondering why he was being followed by a herd of goblins riding unicorns. _Is this what being one of the Dragonborn is about?_ Martin thought irritably. _Because I assumed that these dreams were supposed to be a lot more prophetic and less..._

One of the goblins saluted at Martin as it rode past, then winked at him roguishly. "Almost there, sire."

_...less insane._

"Martin! Martin, over here!" a little voice called. Martin spotted Pente jumping up and down not too far away, waving enthusiastically. He walked towards her, feeling more confused than ever. At least the goblins didn't seem to be following anymore; they were starting to get creepy.

"What's happening?" he asked, assuming that the Bosmer was far more acquainted with insanity than he was. Pente pointed to one side, smiling.

"We thought you'd never get here! Look! It's Miscarcand."

"What?"

"It's Miscarcand. Didn't you hear her?" Baurus had appeared out of nowhere and was pointing in the same direction as Pente. Martin turned to look. It seemed they were indicating an old Ayleid ruin - a pretty big one, but otherwise unremarkable.

"That's Miscarcand? This is all very interesting, but --"

"That's right, it's Miscarcand." Narina had now joined the little group. Martin looked around shiftily - if any arrogant Nords showed up, he was _leaving._ "Do you see?"

"See what?!" Martin cried, passing a hand over his eyes in frustration. "What's the use of a dream where people pop up out of nowhere just to point at a ruin and tell me..."

_Oh!_

Martin sat bolt upright as he woke from the dream, his heart pounding. _It's Miscarcand!_ Maybe there _was_ something to all that talk about the Dragonborn seeing things in their dreams, then. He'd have to do some research to verify things, but this was still the best lead for the location of a Great Welkynd Stone that he had.

Though next time his dreams had anything to tell him, he rather thought he'd prefer a vision with fewer goblins.

* * *

The next morning brought mixed emotions for Pente. On the one hand, she was happy to be getting the whole gate-closing business over with - they had come to do a job, after all, and putting it off was only going to put people in unnecessary danger. The Gate had to be closed as soon as possible. It was just that simple.

On the other hand, she was bloody _terrified_. Baurus didn't seem too happy with the situation, either. They were waiting outside the inn where they had spent the night, and Baurus was pacing back and forth in agitation.

"What's taking him so long?" the Redguard muttered, quickening his pace. He was definitely unusually irritable this morning. Pente quietly took hold of his arm and steered him to a standstill.

"Um, he said he had to prepare. Something about polishing his sword."

Baurus raised an eyebrow. "_Polishing his sword._ Styrbrand said that."

"Yes. What's wrong?"

"He... Ugh. This isn't the time. I'm going to go get --"

"I have _arrived!"_ Styrbrand announced as he swaggered impressively from the inn, prompting a tiny groan from Baurus. His armour was polished to a remarkably reflective sheen and he cut a thoroughly majestic figure as the morning sunlight glinted off him. The effect was only enhanced by the two-handed claymore that the Nord had sheathed at his back.

"_Show-off_," Baurus muttered again in disgust.

"I kind of see what he meant about not wanting to use this," Pente confessed, patting the hilt of her katana. "It _does_ look kind of feeble compared with what he's used to."

Baurus rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh." He leaned down and whispered something in Pente's ear. Her brow furrowed in confusion as he pulled away, smirking.

"I don't get it," she said loudly, "Overcompensating for _what?"_

The Redguard couldn't help but grin as Styrbrand spluttered indignantly. "So, everyone ready?" he asked, assuming the most innocent expression that he could. The Nord glowered, muttering darkly, while Pente nodded. "Come on, then. The sooner we're done with this, the better."

Upon approaching the Gate, it became clear that a small crowd had formed around the spiked structure. Pente's stomach clenched in horror as awful possibilities crossed her mind. _Why are so many people here? I hope nothing's happened. Mother Mara, what if someone's already in there? What if someone's been _killed? _Oh my, maybe _ more _than one person --_

Her fears were dispelled as one of the figures turned around and pointed excitedly. "Look, look! That's her! She's here!"

"That's her? The short one?"

"_Not_ what I expected. She must be undercover."

"Miss Pente, Miss Pente! Over here! Remember me?"

Pente forced a tight, nervous little smile. "H-hello, Thaurron. Um, why are there so many --"

"See!" Thaurron cried, turning to the crowd. "The Hero of Kvatch _knows my name_. She's not just a faceless hero, she takes time to get to know the people! So awe-inspiring..."

Pente covered her burning cheeks with her hands and made a tiny little flustered noise of distress. "Can we hurry and go? I'm not..." She looked up through her fingers at Baurus. "This is k-kind of uncomfortable."

"Not enjoying having your own fanclub?" Baurus laughed. "Come on, then. Let's go." Without any fanfare, they walked straight into the portal. Styrbrand hesitated slightly, looking back at the crowd.

"If anyone wants to know, I'm Styrbrand, the Unbelievably --"

"Hey!" A guard shouted, pushing his way through the gathering. "Hey, didn't I warn you away from there a couple of days ago?! Get away from the fetching Gate!"

"Never mind," Styrbrand spluttered, hastily hurling himself into the flames.

* * *

Aranwen scowled at her reflection in the mirror. The day had _not_ started well. Carefully fluffing her hair around her face, she narrowed her eyes critically. _Perfect, as ever. But..._

Something was bothering her. Something _important_. Oh, in the name of Y'ffre - she was going to have to ask Jauffre about it. Aranwen knew it was going to bother her all day if she didn't get it sorted out. Pursing her lips, she set off down the stairs in search of the Grandmaster.

"Morning, ma'am!" Belisarius smiled, saluting at Aranwen as she stomped past him. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

"Hmm? Oh, if you say so, darling," Aranwen replied, absently chewing her lip. She stopped walking for a moment and turned towards the Blade. "Achille, sweetie?"

"Belisarius, ma'am."

"Oh, yes. Slip of the tongue, dear. Listen, I... I don't suppose you heard anything _unusual_ last night, did you?"

"I'm afraid I wasn't on the night watch, ma'am. Cyrus didn't mention anything when I came to relieve him, though. Is there something amiss?"

"Oh, nothing for you to fret over. Carry on, dear." Aranwen continued onward, beginning to doubt herself now. Maybe she _hadn't_ heard what she thought she'd heard... She finally found Jauffre in the kitchen and pulled him to one side.

"Jauffrecakes? I --"

"Good morning," Jauffre said mildly. "What's wrong?"

"That's what I'm trying to... Oh. Good morning, sweetiekins." Aranwen waved a hand dismissively - this was too urgent to bother with pleasantries! "Do you know who Carcan is?"

Jauffre's face displayed utter confusion. "Carcan? I don't believe so. Is it even a name? Why do you ask?"

"I heard someone... someone mention a Miss Carcan." Aranwen's gaze slid evasively to one side. "I was just wondering who they were referring to, dear."

"Miss Carcan. I don't think I..." Jauffre thoughtfully scratched his head. "The closest I can think of is Miss _Carvain_. Countess Narina," he explained. He wasn't expecting the Wood Elf explosion that followed his words.

"That _harlot!"_ Aranwen raged, stamping her foot angrily. "Oh, I know _her_ game! She swans her way in here like she's Empress already, then corrupts poor little Marty to the point where he's shouting for her in his sleep! I --"

"Aranwen," Jauffre interjected, "Please calm down. I'm sure you must have misheard." He paused for a second. "May I ask why this is any of your concern?"

The Bosmer grimaced shiftily. "I don't want to see Marty hurt, of course. I think you should stop that _woman_ from coming here in future - for his benefit, of course. Poor Marty, he's just so trusting..."

"She's already here," Jauffre replied, deliberately avoiding Aranwen's eyes. "She's assisting him in the library again, and --"

"Alone?!"

"Yes. But -- _Aranwen!_ Come back!"

A Wood Elf whirlwind burst into the library, her face a picture of indignant fury. "Just _what_ are you two doing?" she hissed, scowling at Narina.

"Research," Martin calmly smiled. "Is there something wrong?"

"I..." Aranwen faltered, glancing behind her as Jauffre followed her into the room. "I just... um..."

"Look! Miscarcand is mentioned _here_," Narina piped up. She nudged Martin and pointed to a passage in the book she was reading. "There, look. And it doesn't seem like it will be easy to --"

"Miscarcand?" Jauffre interrupted, glancing meaningfully at Aranwen. "What's that?"

"An Ayleid ruin. It seems like a likely candidate for a place to get our Great Welkynd Stone," explained Martin. He turned back to the book that Narina was reading and Jauffre began to lead Aranwen out of the room, shaking his head in exasperation.

"There!" the Breton exclaimed, when they were out of earshot. "_Miscarcand_. That's what you heard." He sighed, noting Aranwen's doubtful expression. "There's nothing untoward going on. Don't worry about things that don't matter."

"Oh, I suppose you're right," Aranwen mumbled, touching her face self-consciously. "Worrying causes wrinkles, and Y'ffre knows I don't want _those_. I have to stay looking fabulous for my Jauffrekins, isn't that right?"

Jauffre sighed heavily. "Yes, dear."

* * *

_I'm alive! Alive! By the Nine, we're alright!_

As Pente emerged from the wreckage of the newly-closed Gate, she felt nothing but euphoria. Closing the Gate had been _easy._ Simple. _Child's play_. Of course, Baurus and Styrbrand had done all the work; they'd been very competitive about who could kill the most Daedra in the shortest amount of time. Pente was just happy that she'd been able to scurry around un-noticed.

Stepping away from the remains of the Gate, she was met with cheers from the assembled crowd. As the people gathered around her, she shrank back and hid behind Baurus. Fame and attention weren't welcome side-effects of all this, particularly when she was covered with ash and dirt. _Yuck_. Thaurron ran towards them, practically bouncing with enthusiasm.

"That was astounding, ma'am! The way the Gate just collapsed in on itself... The three of you running from the wreckage..." Thaurron enthused, clapping politely. "Truly inspirational! I almost wish I'd been in there with you."

"Um, thank... thankyou. But it was my f-friends, not me," Pente coughed, trying to clean her face. "They did most of it. Them. Those two."

"So modest. The mark of a true hero. So who _are_ they?" Thaurron asked, looking up at the two men with interest. Styrbrand stopped trying to shake the ash from his hair and instead assumed a heroic pose, puffing out his chest.

"I am Styrbrand, the Unbelievably Mighty, Touched by Destiny, Chosen by the Nine and... Closer of Gates." The Nord nodded. Yes, that was definitely something to add to his list of titles. _Slayer of Daedra_, too, perhaps, but then - he didn't want to go overboard, after all. _Hmmm_. "You can call me Styrbrand the Unbelievably Mighty. Or Styrbrand the Heroic. Perhaps just Almighty Styrbrand, Peerless Warrior."

Baurus raised a hand. "I'm Baurus." Styrbrand shot him a disdainful look - didn't he know _anything_ about heroism? Self-promotion was essential! Well, his loss. Thaurron didn't seem put off, though.

"Wow," he breathed, staring at each of them in turn. He sagged suddenly, as if literally deflating. "I suppose you can't stay long? Places to go, Gates to close?"

"Right," Baurus nodded, with a glance at Styrbrand. "I don't know about him, but we really have to go as soon as possible..."

"Wait!" Styrbrand bellowed, excitedly. "Wait, I should come with you! We can close the Gates together and be heroes --"

"No," Baurus said flatly. "No. Not a chance. No _way._"

Styrbrand pouted. "But... Wait!" He brightened instantly, filled with enthusiasm. "Now I've closed a Gate, they have to let me close more, don't they? The guards, I mean," he blustered. "Not that they could really stop me, but, uh... You know. It's best to avoid the loss of innocent lives and... stuff."

"What, on your own?" Pente squeaked. "By yourself? Nobody else?"

Styrbrand shrugged. "You did it at Kvatch. And by my estimation, I'm at least... twice as heroic as you. And a _lot_ more manly."

"I'll pass the message along to the other Mages Guild branches," Thaurron piped up, happy to be helpful. "I'll let them know that Styrbrand the Unbelievably Mighty and Destinyful and Shiny is coming to assist the Hero of Kvatch. Will that do? Then they'll be ready for you!"

"Assist?" whimpered Styrbrand, his voice a pathetic squeak. Thaurron ignored him.

"O-oh, while you're sending messages, could you send one for me?" Pente asked. "I need to get a message to a man called Jauffre. Just to let him know how things are progressing, of course. The message needs to go to... Wait." She turned to Baurus. "Baurus, are we allowed to mention Cloud Ruler Temple, or is it a secr--"

"Send the message to Achille, courtesy of the Bruma Mages Guild," Baurus hastily interrupted. They'll know where to send it from there."

"Alright. What's the message?" Thaurron asked, conjuring a quill and parchment from thin air.

"I'll write it." Baurus took the quill and began scribbling. Thaurron gave Pente an odd look.

"So... where are you going next?"

"I'm not sure. Somewhere near, I suppose. We have to close all the Gates really fast," Pente mumbled, fumbling through her bag for a map. "Skingrad, I guess..."

"Why would you need to go somewhere close?" Thaurron trilled. "I can transport you anywhere you like in a jiffy! There's a spell I've been working on based on some research I did in Morrowind. Do you know, they do fabulous work on magic there! Those Telvanni, they're crazy as they come but _so_ powerful --"

"Teleportation?" Baurus asked, shooting Thaurron a suspicious glance as he handed over the completed letter. The mer nodded.

"Yes. Similar to the recall spells some mages use, but with some fine-tuning by yours truly!" He beamed. "I could send you anywhere you wanted! That way you could close Gates at one end of Cyrodiil while your friend works from the other. Sounds good, no?"

"It'll get us there faster," Pente said, turning to Baurus. "And we need to be quick, r-right? What's the worst that could happen?"

"I don't know. That's the trouble. How much testing have you done?" Baurus asked, turning back to Thaurron.

"Oh, extensive tests. There's no chance that anything could go wrong. It's flawless."

The Redguard sighed in resignation. "Fine. Cheydinhal, then? Styrbrand can start work on the Gates nearer here, and we'll meet somewhere in the middle."

Pente nodded and clutched Baurus' arm. "Okay, r-ready!"

Waving his hands in an elaborate twisting gesture, Thaurron chanted under his breath. With a final flourish of his arms, he sent waves of magicka soaring towards Pente and Baurus...

There was a loud bang, a scream, and a thick cloud of green smoke. As it began to clear, it seemed that Baurus and Pente had disappeared. Or exploded, though the lack of any _mess _ seemed to indicate the former.

Coughing, Thaurron waved a hand in front of his face. "G-goodness. That never happened in the testing phase. I suppose people must react differently to the spell than imps do... Hmm. Something to ponder. You next, Mr. Styrbrand! Where to? Skingrad?"

Styrbrand gulped. "I think I'll walk."

* * *

**Notes:** Little does Martin know that his trippy dream wasn't prophetic Dragonborn-type stuff at all - Narina spiked his drink with Skooma to get him back for the Rotmeth thing. OH NOES!

Um, or not. :D


	22. Chapter 22: Huzzah!

The skies high above the city of Cheydinhal were perfectly clear. No clouds, no rain, not even a solitary bird. Luckless Lucina, the beggar, looked up and allowed a small smile to spread across her age-worn face. On a day like this, it was difficult to feel unlucky. With the sun shining like that, you couldn't help but feel blessed. And... _wait_. She put a hand to her eyes to shield them from the sun's glare and squinted into the sky. Was that... green smoke? And something falling through the air... _People?  
_

Lucina gaped helplessly as she watched two figures fall screaming from the air and land behind the buildings out of her sight. Gibbering in horror, she rushed to the nearest guard. "Sir, kind sir! People... falling from the sky... Impossible, but... over _there,_" she screeched, babbling incoherently as she pointed towards the place they had landed. The guard rolled his eyes.

"Skooma-addled wastrel! A day in the dungeons should cool you off. Come on, it's jail for you!" He shook his head as he pulled the still-raving beggar towards the prison. It was a shame what skooma did to the poor addicts, really. People falling from the sky... _Honestly.  
_

* * *

Pente spluttered and spat out water as she dragged herself out of the Cheydinhal river. _Disgusting. _At least it had got rid of the last of the ash from the Oblivion Gate... Although she couldn't say that dirty water was much better than icky soot, to be honest. She looked around, trying to spot her companion. "Baurus? _Baurus?!"_

She thought she heard a faint call in response. Relief rushed through her - she _knew_ her talent for screaming was useful! Pente ran in the direction of the voice, which led her behind an old boarded-up house. "Baurus? Where --"

"Over here. I'm stuck." Baurus waved at Pente sheepishly. It seemed he had fallen into a nearby well when he had dropped from the sky. Unable to hold back giggles, Pente scurried over to offer her assistance.

"You look like an overturned _mudcrab_," she squealed, cackling madly. It was true - with his arms and legs splayed over the sides of the well, the resemblance was uncanny. "Give me your hands and I'll try and help."

The two clasped hands and Pente began to pull, throwing her whole weight behind the effort to get Baurus out. He was really wedged in tight, and his armour screeched in protest as it scraped on the stone. With a final, desperate tug that sent her sprawling onto her back, Pente managed to pull the Redguard free. Unfortunately, the momentum sent him crashing down on top of her.

_Ow._

"Well _hello_ there," Baurus grinned, looking down at Pente with an odd gleam in his eye. "This is --"

"_Heavy", _Pente interrupted, wheezing and scrabbling feebly at Baurus' armour. His grin faded slightly as he hastily got up.

"Oh. Uh. Sorry about that." He held out a hand to help the gasping Bosmer to her feet. "I guess next time _you'll_ have to be on top."

"Eh? What, you're not going to fall in any more wells, are you?" Pente screwed up her face in confusion. "How do you _know?_ It's not the kind of thing that happens every day. Not even to me, and you know what I'm like --"

"Hey! You two! Get away from there!" A pretty blonde girl was racing towards them, pointing accusingly. She glanced quickly at the well before turning back to the two Blades. "What're you doing near the well? Who are you?"

"I'm Pente. He's Baurus. S-sorry, we didn't know this was private property and we didn't mean to be here anyway, it was all a big mistake and there was an accident with a mage and I fell in the river and then --"

"She's the Hero of Kvatch. We're here to close the Oblivion Gate," Baurus interjected. He really wished Pente would use her title more often. It was like a little magic phrase that could get them out of the _trickiest_ situations. As if to prove Baurus' point, the Breton's face lit up in a bright smile.

"Oh, that's great! It's such an eyesore, you know. It keeps spewing scamps at the guards, and they smell _horrid_. The scamps, not the guards. At least most of the time!" She laughed, amused at herself. "That complete _prat_ Farwil went in there earlier, but he's been gone a couple of hours, now. He's probably dead," she added, with relish.

"Farwil? Farwil _Indarys_?" Baurus asked, his heart sinking. The Breton girl nodded.

"Yes, the Count's son. _Such_ an idiot. He went in there with some of his friends, shouting something about a guide that he'd got telling him about _'how to rid the land of the vile plague of Daedra. Huzzah!'"._ She rolled her eyes. "Prat."

"We'd better hurry," Baurus murmured, eliciting a shaky nod in response from Pente. He turned back to the blonde Breton. "Which way is the Gate?"

"Leave town through the west exit, past the stables, to the north. It's on fire, so you can't miss it!" she said, with a cheerful smile.

"Thankyou!" Pente beamed. "We, um, appreciate your help, uh... I didn't catch your name..."

"Antoinetta! Antoinetta Marie."

"That sounds familiar. Haven't we met... u-um... b-before...?" Pente trailed off, paling as she remembered exactly where she'd heard the name before. _From the black-robed man who thought I was a m-murderer... So that means she... s-she must be..._

_O-oh my.  
_

"I don't think so. Is something wrong?" Antoinetta asked, sweetly. Pente's eyes were suddenly drawn to the wickedly sharp dagger at the girl's waist.

"No-nothing! We have to go. B-bye! Come on, B-Baurus." Pente grabbed the Redguard's hand and fled, her eyes wide with fear.

"_You're_ eager," Baurus remarked, forced to run as fast as he could to keep up. "See, you're braver than you think!"

* * *

"A message from the Mages Guild for you, sir."

"Many thanks, Achille. But for Talos' sake, wipe that lipstick off your face! It's hardly professional. Dismissed." Rolling his eyes, Jauffre unfurled the scroll that Achille had handed him. The younger man walked off, an inane grin on his face. Jauffre shook his head disapprovingly - while he wasn't in a position to complain about his men having personal lives, it wouldn't do for such frivolities to interfere with Blades business. It just wasn't _done_.

Aranwen interrupted Jauffre's thoughts with a shrill cry of greeting. "Snugglebug! I sent Caroline out to get some ingredients for dinner, I hope you don't mind. She was only on guard duty, and it's not as though it really takes more than one person for that, is it? Oh, and I took the liberty of organising all those bits of parchment on your desk, aren't I helpful? They were in little piles all over the place; _so_ untidy. I put everything in a drawer for you, sweetie -- Oh! What's _that?_"

"You... you rearranged my paperwork? But I... They were organised into..." Jauffre took a deep breath. _Think peaceful thoughts. Calm blue skies. Gently lapping waves. That's it. Argh, maybe it was Aranwen who took my helmet? Perhaps she tidied it away somewhere. Hmmm. _ "Anyway... Ah, this? It's a message from the Mages Guild. Hmm..." His eyes flickered back and forth as he read the hastily-scrawled letter.

* * *

_Grandmaster -_

_Everything going well. Apart from the Gates themselves, no signs of Mythic Dawn activity. Anvil gate closed, moving on to Cheydinhal next (don't ask). Styrbrand of the Stupidly Numerous Titles helping out. Suicide inevitable. Will get Pente to carry my corpse back to Cloud Ruler, but she might have to take it piece by piece. Make sure you get the head._

_Will keep you informed assuming that I survive the day,_

_- Baurus_

* * *

Jauffre raised a single eyebrow. Baurus had always had an _odd_ sense of humour, but it had been manifesting itself more and more lately. Maybe the Redguard had been on to something when he had suggested something about Bosmeri insanity being contagious... "Er, it's from Baurus. He and Pente are doing fine, although..." Jauffre paused and frowned at the note. "I don't know why they started closing the gates in Anvil. It's not exactly close by. And now they're moving on to _Cheydinhal_, of all places!"

"That's my Penny! Unconventional, but she gets things done!"

"But..." Jauffre shook his head in exasperation. "Surely it would have been more sensible to close the Gates in some kind of _order_, instead of going to completely opposite ends of Cyrodiil. I don't know _what_ those two are thinking."

"They're being unpredictable, dear. So those Musty Doom people won't be able to track their movements! It's all Penny's idea, I bet." Aranwen smiled proudly. "She can be smart when she needs to be, you know. She inherited her mother's brains."

"Ah, well, of course," Jauffre mumbled evasively. "Anyway, we should let Martin know of the developments. He's been seeming a touch distracted recently; this might perk him up."

"Oooh, yes!" Aranwen chirped, taking the Breton's arm. "He has to be worried about Pennykins, of course. So romantic!"

_Romantic?_ Jauffre shook his head. The mer had the strangest ideas about things, sometimes. He headed off towards the library, Aranwen trailing along after him. He wished she wouldn't - the Countess was still present, and Aranwen didn't seem to be physically capable of masking her dislike for Narina. It was almost like she _enjoyed_ the conflict, though that couldn't be right, could it...?

Jauffre's train of thought screeched to a halt as he entered the library. Martin wasn't there. The only person in the room was Roliand, who hastily put aside the book he had been reading and raised his arm in a rushed salute. "Sir!"

The Breton narrowed his eyes. "Where is Martin? I was under the impression that he was studying in here."

"He was, sir. Then --"

"_The Lusty Argonian Maid?_ Roliand, dear. I never expected you to have such exotic tastes," Aranwen interrupted, picking up the discarded book and idly flipping it open. Roliand blushed scarlet.

"Please. Roliand's reading habits aren't important," Jauffre sighed. By the Nine - why was it so hard to stay on-topic lately? "Where is Martin?"

Roliand seemed to have composed himself somewhat. "He said he had something to show the Countess. Up in his quarters, I think."

There was a deathly silence. Jauffre slowly turned to face Aranwen, who was shaking slightly, her hands balled into angry fists. "I... remain calm, please. I'm sure it's not what --"

Without a word, Aranwen stormed up the stairs towards Martin's private room. Flinging the doors open, her eyes narrowed into dark little slits. _"What_ are you doing?"

"Ah, are you alright? You seem upset," Martin asked, startled. "I'm just showing Narina the Mysterium Xarxes, she said she wanted to see it."

"I _bet_ she did," Aranwen scowled. The _nerve_ of that woman! She really wished Pente would come home soon - this couldn't be allowed to continue. Who did the Countess think she was, trying to get in the way of true love? It was _intolerable!_ "Um, Marty, I just wanted to know if you were hungry. Yes. That was it."

"Oh, we had a salad earlier on," Narina smiled. "But thankyou."

"_Salad?"_ hissed Aranwen, ignoring Jauffre's attempts to gently pull her out of the room. "_Salad?! _With_ leaves?"_

"Come along," Jauffre soothed, leading her away. "It's alright. Come with me."

_"Leaves._ She's feeding him _leaves_, darling..."

Narina grimaced as the doors closed behind them. "Gosh. Did I say something wrong?"

"Aranwen is just a little... over-zealous," Martin smiled apologetically. "Anyway, as you were saying..."

"Oh, yes. This." Narina turned back to the Mysterium Xarxes, which lay open on Martin's desk. "I definitely can't be of any help. I don't know how you managed to translate a single word! It all looks so strange." She thoughtfully traced the lines of one of the Xarxes' intricate diagrams with her index finger. Martin's hand suddenly shot out and grasped her own, pulling it away from the book.

"Don't! I haven't fully warded it. It's too dangerous to touch without the proper protection in place; the very pages themselves are imbued with powerful enchantments that..." Martin hurriedly let go of Narina's hand, suddenly acutely aware that he had held it for longer than was polite. "Um."

"Oh. I suppose it's lucky that I'm not easily corrupted," Narina said airily. "How did you transport it here, then?"

"Pente brought it. Impressive, really - the book's evil power didn't affect her at all." Martin was quite sure that the Bosmer had _always_ been crazy, so it couldn't have been an effect of carrying the Xarxes around. He _hoped_. "Unlike me, I suppose. It influences my dreams even when I don't make direct contact with it."

"It does?" Narina peered at the pages once more, taking care not to touch the aged parchment. "I don't see any unicorns, Martin."

"That's because they're on the _next_ page," Martin replied dryly. Narina smiled in response, then her expression changed to one of curiosity as her eyes settled on an object on a shelf to Martin's left.

"What's that, may I ask?"

Martin turned and picked up the object Narina seemed to be indicating. "This? Another of Pente's souvenirs. A Sigil Stone - it acts as an anchor for the Oblivion Gates, keeping them stable." He passed the shimmering stone to Narina. "I've been studying it a little when I've had the chance. They're strange things, really. They share some fundamental similarities with Welkynd Stones, but apart from that they're not like anything found on Nirn. You see..." Martin's words died in his throat as he paused, lost in thought.

"Martin?"

"One moment," he muttered, realisation dawning on him. "I think I need to take another look at the Mysterium Xarxes."

* * *

"D-do you think we should call out for him? Farwil, I mean," Pente whispered. She and Baurus had been inside the Oblivion Gate for almost half an hour, but so far they hadn't seen any sign of the Count's missing son. In Baurus' opinion, this was probably a good thing. No news was infinitely better than stumbling across the noble's mangled corpse, after all.

_Especially_ with Pente in tow. The screams would probably make his ears bleed.

"No. Stay quiet, we don't want to attract anything hostile. We'll find him, don't worry!" They had come to a cliff - not a particularly steep one, but it was still quite a height from the ground below. Baurus carefully began to make his way down it, testing the footholds as he climbed. "Careful over this bit, okay? Some of the rocks are loose."

"A-alright." _Heights. O-oh, g-gods! _Pente braced herself against Baurus as she gingerly began to descend, and chewed her lip in concentration. "I h-hope he's alright, though."

"He has the guide we wrote. I'm sure he's fine. If he follows the advice, he can't go wrong," Baurus lied, trying to sound reassuring. Pente gave a little hesitant nod.

"Well, I suppose so. Wait... What would happen if he was to get to the Sigil Stone before us?" Pente's voice took on a note of shrill panic as she contemplated the possibilities. "We'd be transported out of here along with him, r-right? Or do we have to be in the tower for it to let us out? O-ohh, what if we get stuck here? We'll die or get eaten or _both _ or we'll have to live here and have tea-parties with the Daedra and I really don't think that Dremora eat cake, although they _did_ steal mine when they invaded Kvatch and --"

"Calm down, it'll be fine. Watch your step!"

Baurus' warning came too late. While Pente was distracted by thoughts of sharing desserts with Daedra, she stopped concentrating on the trail. With a sharp scream, she lost her footing and began skidding rapidly down the cliff face. "H-help! _Baurus!"  
_

"Don't move! I'm coming!" Baurus yelled, as Pente came to a stop on a small ledge three-quarters of the way down the sloped cliff. She quickly began sending feeble trickles of restoration magic into her bruised limbs, allowing herself little whimpers of fear as she did so. Her injuries didn't seem at all serious, but she definitely wasn't going to take any chances. Her attention was drawn to noises coming from the ground below - _people? _

"Oho! Hark, Bremman! A damsel in distress! Don't fear, my lady, we're coming to your aid. Huzzah!"

Pente's heart skipped a beat and she whipped her head around, searching for the source of the voice. _There_ - at the bottom of the cliff were two armoured figures rushing towards her. The one in front was definitely a Dunmer, and his companion was a man, not a mer - perhaps an Imperial. Remembering the order to stay where she was, Pente waved frantically but remained rooted to the spot. "H-hello? Are you Farwil? Thank the Nine we found you!"

"Ah, my reputation precedes me!" enthused the Dark Elf. "That's me! Farwil Indarys, leader of the Knights of the Thorn -- Egads!" As he rushed towards the cliff, Farwil tripped up and found himself ensnared in a patch of Harrada roots. Struggling against the thick vines, he hacked away indiscriminately with his sword. "One moment, lady, I appear to be -- _ugh _-- besieged by malevolent plants..."

Baurus finally made his way down the cliff, and he stared at the Dunmer in disbelief as he helped Pente to her feet. "I guess that's him, then? The Indarys guy?"

"Yes. Farwil. The one fighting the, um, vines." They started picking their way down the cliffs towards the struggling mer, and Baurus kept a tight hold on Pente's arm just in case she fell again. By the time they got to the bottom of the slope, Farwil was free. He saluted enthusiastically, but his companion looked incredibly disgruntled.

"You're with the lady? Salutations, fellow knight! Farwil Indarys." Farwil nodded at Baurus in greeting. "Are you here to close the Gate too? It's dangerous to be here alone! You should join us. We'll defeat the Daedra, save the damsel, snag the stone and be hailed as heroes throughout Tamriel. Huzzah!" He lifted his sword above his head in a defiant gesture. Baurus seemed a little lost for words.

"I wonder why that girl called him a prat," Pente whispered. "He seems pretty brave to me."

"Oh yeah. Not a prat in the _slightest_," Baurus coughed. He faced Farwil and nodded slowly. "Sure, we'll help you. But be careful, you --"

"Huzzah! I'll lead the way. Follow me! For the Knights of the Thorn!" Farwil bellowed, beginning to run towards the sigil tower. Pente ran after him, repeating Baurus' warning to be careful, and the Redguard turned towards Farwil's companion.

"Hey. I'm Baurus. Are you okay? Pente can heal you right up if you're hurt." He was a little concerned - the man was grimacing as though in pain.

"I'm fine. The name's Bremman." They followed on behind the two mer, Bremman scowling as they ran. "By the Nine, this is awful. This just keeps getting worse... Seriously - you have no idea what it's like to be dragged inside one of these things by a crazy elf with a talent for getting into trouble!"

"No," Baurus muttered, avoiding the Imperial's gaze. "No idea at all."

* * *

"Yes, I'm quite certain. The last element needed for the ritual is definitely a Great Sigil Stone," Martin stated. Jauffre sat at his desk, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "From what I can decipher, these stones can only be retrieved from a Great Oblivion Gate. Like..." He hesitated slightly. "...Like the one that opened at Kvatch."

"Then Pente should have one already, correct? Unless she lost it. Which is probable." Jauffre sighed heavily and held his head in his hands. "She _has _lost it, I presume."

"No, she never had it. She didn't enter the Great Gate at all; that closed itself after it levelled the city." Noting Jauffre's confusion, Martin hurried to explain. "More than one Gate was opened at Kvatch. Something came out of the largest one. I didn't get a good look, I was... well, uh, too busy running at the time - but it was immense." He shook his head. "It fired on the city, then the Gate closed itself. It may have been the thing referred to in the Xarxes as a _Daedric Siege Engine_, it's quite interesting, really. They seem to use sigil stones as an energy source, so it would make sense for it to --"

"Yes, yes. But the issue is surely more about how you can get hold of one of the stones, correct?" Jauffre asked, with some apprehension. Martin wasn't looking happy, which couldn't be a good sign.

"Well, we'll need to coax the enemy into opening one of these Great Gates. That will require allowing them to open several smaller Gates first, or so I believe."

"Impossible." Jauffre shook his head. "The Mythic Dawn won't open any Gates in the wilderness, which is the only place where we could allow them that kind of freedom. They've been concentrating their efforts near the cities."

"Exactly. We'll have to let them try and besiege one of the towns. But if anything goes wrong..." Martin closed his eyes in frustration. This was all so bloody _difficult.  
_

"Indeed. For now, we should concentrate on the other item. The Great Welkynd Stone," Jauffre said, rubbing his head reflectively. "You're sure you know where to get one?"

"Yes. Very sure. Miscarcand, an Ayleid ruin near Kvatch," Martin confirmed. All the research he and Narina had done only served to increase his conviction in the dream being correct - all the hints seemed to line up. "Speaking of Kvatch, I was hoping --"

"No."

"You don't even know what I was going to ask," Martin frowned.

"If it was in any way a request that you leave Cloud Ruler Temple, then the answer stands," Jauffre said flatly. "I won't allow it. It's far too dangerous."

"I only wish to make a very quick trip to Kvatch. I could go with Baurus and Pente; they would be more than enough protection. Jauffre, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. I left something back there, something I _need_ --"

Then ask Pente and Baurus to fetch it for you when they go to Miscarcand. Which reminds me, I shall have to get a message to Cheydinhal asking those two to return as soon as possible..." Jauffre searched through his desk drawer for a quill. "Getting the ingredients for the ritual has to take precedence over Ocato's task, I'm afraid. Blast it, _where _ has Aranwen put everything?"

Martin left the room quietly as Jauffre continued grumbling to himself. _Damn. _He hadn't expected the Grandmaster to agree to his request right away, but to be flatly denied like that... This was going to take considerable thought. Aranwen was good at getting what she wanted from Jauffre, wasn't she? _Hmmm. What would Aranwen do...?_

Several scenarios entered Martin's head, all of them sickening. _Ugh._ Perhaps it would be better to think about this in the morning.


	23. Chapter 23: Unicorns

Baurus wiped the sweat from his brow as he slew yet another creature. _Damned Clannfear_ - he wished they weren't so _jumpy_. It only made them that much harder to pin down with a sword. Then again, this would be a whole lot easier in general if Farwil and Bremman were... well... _useful.  
_

He glanced at the two self-proclaimed knights, who were now stabbing at the dead Clannfear with great enthusiasm. Pente had gone white, unable to tear her eyes from the bloody mess on the ground. "Would you two stop that? It's _dead_," Baurus hissed, grinding his teeth. Gods, this was annoying.

"Just making sure!" Farwil replied. "Hey, you're jolly good at this, aren't you? This killing lark, I mean. Anyone would think you'd been training for _years!"_

"Imagine that."

"You should become a member of the Knights of the Thorn. We're always looking for talented newbies to add to our ranks!" Farwil performed an overly-elaborate salute. "That's our secret greeting. You'd have to learn it if you wanted to join, but otherwise I'd say you're _just_ about qualified! What do you say?"

Fighting back intense irritation, Baurus shook his head. "I think I'll pass."

"Suit yourself," Farwil shrugged. "Then we should make haste. To the Tower! Huzzah!" He ran ahead of the others, but it wasn't long before he rushed headlong into a dense patch of Spiddal plants. Bremman dashed over to his friend, grumbling, and quickly pulled the Dunmer away from the harmful spores. Farwil choked and spluttered, but his mindless enthusiasm didn't seem to be dampened one bit.

"_Please_ be careful," Pente pleaded as she tried to heal Farwil of the damaging effects of the Spiddal vapours. "You'll end up g-getting hurt, and nobody wants that!"

"Don't fret, sweet lady! It is merely the code of conduct for a knight to be chivalrous and protect others. You must forgive me in pursuing that ideal! Huzz--"

"If you say _huzzah_ one more time, I'm _not_ going to be responsible for my actions," Baurus scowled. By the Nine Divines - he'd thought Styrbrand was annoying, but at least the Nord could fight instead of getting regularly attacked by plant life. Baurus could only cope with one accident-prone mer at a time, and he definitely knew who his first choice was.

Farwil let out an indignant huff. "Watch your tongue, Redguard! This kind of treatment is completely inappropriate. I'm _Farwil Indarys,_ son of Count Andel Indarys! You can't talk to _me_ like that --"

"Stop it," Pente squeaked hastily. "We're at the sigil tower, so can't we just get this over with? I'm s-sure nobody actually wants to be here longer than we have to b-be."

"Ah! Excellent. The prize is nearing our grasp, Bremman! Hurry!" Farwil cheered, his cheerful demeanour returning instantly. "HUZZAH!" He charged forward and pushed open the door to the tower, his sword held aloft. Clenching his teeth, Baurus followed reluctantly. Would it _really_ be such a crime to, say, just let the Dunmer charge into a pit of lava? Nobody would blame him if he let it happen. Hell, he might even get some kind of medal for services to Cyrodiil.

The bottom of the sigil tower was guarded by a lone Xivilai. This alone was enough to make Pente flee to the opposite end of the room, but Farwil only took it as a sign that more of his particular brand of chivalry was warranted. "Hah, foul beastie! You will not live to regret crossing _me!"_ he called, twirling his sword in the Xivilai's direction. "Wait. I meant that you won't _live_. Not that you won't _regret_. I just wanted to clarifARGH!"

Apparently the Xivilai wasn't impressed in the least, as it merely swung its axe at Farwil's legs, sending the Dunmer sprawling to the ground in a bloody heap. As Baurus rushed forward to fight off the Daedra, he couldn't help but feel sorry for it. After all, axeblows were a perfectly valid reaction to Farwil's posturing, weren't they?

Unable to tear her eyes away from Farwil's prone form, Pente tried to cover her face with her hands. Unfortunately, it seemed that they weren't working at the moment. Her mind was thoroughly occupied with more urgent thoughts. _Oh gods that's a lot of blood isn't it by the Nine this can't be happening again make it stop..._

"Pente."

_...hate Xivilai and axes and blood and all of this and I should have stayed in the bloody wardrobe back in Kvatch and...  
_

_"Pente."_ Baurus patted the Bosmer's shoulder, shaking her out of her trance. "Come on, you need to heal him. It's okay, he's alive." He muttered something under his breath that sounded _suspiciously_ like the word 'unfortunately', but Pente was far too distracted to pay attention to that.

"Oh," she babbled, glancing quickly at the Xivilai before looking away again. "It's dead. Good. E-excellent. Huzzah, even. I like them better when they're not alive and scary and trying to kill people, even if they _are _ still ugly and fangy and horrible when they're dead --"

"Yes," Baurus said patiently, "But you need to fix up Farwil now. You can tell me about how much you love dead Daedra later, okay?" He steered her gently towards Farwil's crumpled form. "It's alright."

"Oh, yes, right. O-okay." Pente took a deep breath to compose herself. Farwil's leg didn't seem as bad as she had feared, but there really _was_ a lot of blood. She set to work, rapidly flicking weak spells from her fingertips while trying not to stare directly at the torn flesh.

"Thankyou, kind lady!" gasped Farwil, grimacing in discomfort as the cuts slowly began to close up. "Ugh! For a moment I thought I was going to join the others. Not a fate that I would --"

"Join the others?" Pente asked, confusion marked on her face. "The other _what_? Um, h-hold still, please. My aim's not the best when I'm shaking like this."

"That's _not_ the kind of thing that the guy you're healing wants to hear," Baurus whispered. Luckily, Farwil didn't seem to have noticed, and was busy responding to the mer's question.

"Why, the other Knights of the Thorn, of course. They fell earlier on in our quest for the Glowing Stone of Justice. Noble deaths one and all, they --"

"There were _more_ of you?" Pente asked, horrified. She ceased casting, her job complete. "And they..."

"Yes. Though I don't doubt that they were proud to give their lives for the glory of our knightly order. Huzzah!" Farwil got to his feet, testing his legs carefully. He seemed completely unaware of Pente's aghast expression.

"How can you s-say that? They _died!"_

"For a worthy cause!"

"B-but you could have asked the town guards for help," Pente stammered. "Then they might have been okay. You're the Count's son, they couldn't really have said n-no --"

"Ask those fetchers for aid? And imply that the Knights weren't up to the task?!" Farwil shook his head, smirking in amusement. "So naive. You have no concept of honour, do you? Ah, well - come! To the top of the tower!" He began running ahead, Bremman following reluctantly behind. Pente simply stared, her mouth hanging open.

"We'd better follow them," Baurus sighed. "We don't want your hard work to go to waste, right?"

Pente shook herself slightly before heading towards the top of the tower. "You know what? He really _is_ a prat."

"Don't think too much about it. We should just concentrate on staying alive," Baurus soothed. "In fact - when we get out of here, we'll get you some cake. And if you're _really _ good," he added with a suggestive grin, "I'll let you, uh, _ride my unicorn."_

"_Wow! _ You have a unicorn?!" gasped Pente, her eyes lighting up. "Really? Oh, I love unicorns! I've never seen a real one, but they're supposed to be really rare, aren't they? By Azura! I used to have a toy unicorn when I was little, but mother burned it when she caught me trying to feed it grass. I tried to tell her that's what unicorns _eat_, but --"

"No, no." Baurus rolled his eyes. "Listen. You know what _innuendo_ is, right?"

Pente frowned slightly, clearly thinking hard. "Is that what the cake will be made out of? _Inewen-dough?_ I know cake isn't usually made from dough, but I guess it could be a secret Cheydinhal recipe or something..."

A call from above prevented Baurus from explaining further. "Huzzah! The stone is ours! Super. Do we just take it, or is there a trick to it?"

The two Blades broke into a run to catch up with Farwil, and they found him staring curiously at the sigil stone suspended in mid-air, looking both enchanted and apprehensive. Pente shook her head shiftily. "Umm... No, it's special. You have to jump and grab it. The fall is, um, a t-test of bravery to see if you're worthy of the stone's power."

"Oh." Farwil gulped and took a few steps back. "Then I suppose I should... Fine. Here goes! Huzzah!" He took a short run-up and launched himself into the air, snatched the sigil stone, and screeched in fear as he began falling rapidly downwards.

As the tower began falling apart, Baurus leaned to whisper in Pente's ear. "That was just _mean._ I approve."

"He's a _prat_," Pente whispered back.

* * *

There was a blinding flash of light as the little group stumbled from the wreckage of the Gate. Farwil was clutching the sigil stone like a baby, wide-eyed and whimpering. By contrast, Pente felt unusually confident. _Gosh! I must be getting used to this. Finally! Now I just need to get used to the daedra. And heights. And blood. And fighting generally. Oh, and mudcrabs. Damn c-creepy little things.   
_

Their reception here was quite different to the one at Anvil. There was no crowd to welcome the party back to Nirn - merely two Cheydinhal guards and an old Altmer wearing a rather extravagant-looking outfit. The guards ran towards them instantly, their expressions somewhere between exasperation and relief. "You're the only ones left?" asked one of them, glancing around the area in shock.

Farwil clung mutely to the sigil stone. He clearly wasn't going to be answering any questions. Sighing reluctantly, Bremman answered for him. "Afraid so. The others didn't... they didn't make it. None of us would if it wasn't for their assistance," he admitted, indicating Baurus and Pente. The guards nodded their thanks, then looked back at Farwil.

"So what happened to _his lordship?"  
_

"H-he'll be fine," Pente piped up helpfully. "The shaking should stop after a while, trust me. Just don't let him near any high places."

The guards each took one of Farwil's arms and began to lead him back to the castle. The Altmer took this opportunity to approach the two Blades, though he didn't seem happy about it. "You would be Baurus and Pente?" he asked. They nodded, and he handed over a rolled-up piece of parchment. "Then this is for you." He sneered in distaste, careful to avoid any contact with their sooty hands.

Baurus opened the note and began to read, while Pente shuffled nervously. High Elves always made her so _nervous_. Why did they have to be so... so _tall_ and imposing? Just talking with them made her neck hurt from the strain of constantly looking up. Luckily, this mer didn't seem to want to make small talk. He was still bloody scary, though.

"We have to go home," Baurus said abruptly, crumpling the note. "Jauffre's orders. Martin's... um, he's made some progress." He glanced at the Altmer warily before continuing. "There's something he needs us to take care of as quickly as we can."

"Oh," Pente mumbled. "Then this means no cake?"

"Afraid so."

Turning to the Altmer, Pente tapped his arm hesitantly. She was rewarded with a snarl as she managed to mark his coat with a smear of ash. "O-oh, um, s-sorry. Excuse me, but could you, um, maybe consider possibly teleporting u-us to Bruma, p-please? It's u-urgent and, um..." She trailed off, becoming more nervous as the Altmer neglected to answer. "U-um, please?"

The Altmer responded with a stony glare. "Do I _look_ like a giggling imbecile fond of dabbling in frivolous spells like that? You must have mistaken me for someone who _doesn't_ have more important things to do."

"O-oh. S-sorry, I --"

"Just like those guild initiates they keep sending me," the Altmer continued, barely paying any attention to his surroundings. "Idiots, each and every one! _Ooh, Mister Falcar, I want a recommendation. Falcar, you need to set me a task. I'd like to join the Mages Guild, Falcar, can you fill out pages of tedious paperwork for me while I try not to be incompetent enough to burn down the guild halls?_ I swear..." he balled his fists angrily. "The next idiot they send me is going to push me over the edge, I just _know _ it."

"Um, then, a-ah, never mind," Pente squeaked, backing away. "S-sorry to bother you."

"We'll just have to make our way back on foot," Baurus sighed. "It's safer, anyway. Less chance of us getting into any, uh, difficulties."

They set off on the long walk back to Bruma, Pente chatting away happily as they went. "Hey, why don't we use your unicorn? That'd make the journey faster, wouldn't it? I don't like riding horses very much, but unicorns are just so pretty! You've seen my nightdress, haven't you? Gosh. Hey, does the unicorn have a name? I could help you name it!"

Baurus couldn't help but laugh. "Look, I don't have... It's a _metaphor."  
_

Pente shrugged. "Weird name for a unicorn."

* * *

Narina chewed her lip thoughtfully. This really wasn't good news. Martin was explaining the various conditions required to open a Great Gate, but they were having considerable problems in trying to think of a way to make it all work.

"If we could lure the Mythic Dawn into the wilderness somehow, we might stand a chance. But I doubt that Jauffre would allow me to act as bait to draw them out to a secluded area," Martin frowned. "And I doubt they'd use a Great Gate just to get rid of me. As Jauffre keeps saying, a couple of well-timed assassins should do it."

"It would look extremely suspicious, too," Narina nodded. "For you to be in hiding all this time, then suddenly show up somewhere out of the blue..." She fell silent, renewing the nervous worrying at her lip. Taking a deep breath, she resumed talking, staring intently at the wall while she did so. "You know, there's a snowfield northeast of Bruma. Big. Lots of room for soldiers."

"We can't --"

"Let me finish. It's close to the city, but not so close that it would pose any danger to my people if everything goes well." She defiantly met Martin's eyes. "_If_ all goes to plan, if you can assure me that you will succeed, then it would be a suitable place for your battle."

Martin slowly shook his head. "How can I guarantee something like that? Nothing is certain. Any amount of things could go wrong. I can't tell the future." Images of goblins on unicorns suddenly entered his head. "...Most of the time."

"Is that the way an Emperor should talk? You have to make a firm decision." Narina leaned forward, steely-eyed. "I won't let my feelings for you come before taking care of my city, and --"

"What?" Martin asked, suddenly perking up. "What did you just say?"

"Eh? Oh... Quiet," Narina spluttered, flustered. "That has nothing to do with the matter at hand --"

"Oh, sorry," Martin apologised, unable to stop smiling. "Then I, Emperor-to-be Martin, pledge to use all my resources to protect Bruma during the battle. And should anything threaten your city, it will have to go through me first. Um, whether Jauffre agrees or not. Which he won't. How's that?"

"Much better!" beamed Narina. "Positively inspiring!"

"Glad to hear it. And now," Martin continued, "I'm going to kiss you."

Narina nodded in approval. "Oh, good. It's about bloody time."

* * *

"Y'ffre's blessings - what was _that?!"_ Aranwen blurted out, stiffening suddenly. Jauffre looked up from his desk. _That's odd. _ Aranwen seemed _very_ disturbed - he'd only just managed to calm her down from Narina's comment about salad earlier, and now the mer was more tense than ever.

"What was what?"

"That... no. Never mind." Aranwen shook her head doubtfully. "I just had the _worst_ feeling, darling. Like something really terrible just happened. My women's intuition must be playing up again..."

Jauffre resumed reorganising his desk, shaking his head lightly. "I'm sure everything's alright. There's a slight draft in here, perhaps you just got chilled by it."

"Yes, I... I suppose..." Aranwen picked up a snarled-up ball of yarn that had fallen to the floor in her shock. "It just felt so vivid, snugglecakes. Like some kind of _disaster_ just took place."

Jauffre smiled fondly. "It's only natural for you to be on edge with Pente out there fighting for us. I expect that you're just worried about her, that's all." _How sweet._ While Jauffre definitely counted the mer's feisty nature as one of her many charms, he couldn't help but find the softer side of her endearing as well.

"Oh, yes, of course. My brave little Penny," Aranwen beamed. She got to her feet, offering the tangled yarn to Jauffre. "All finished! Here you go, sweetie. It's a replacement for that helmet you keep complaining about."

Jauffre took the proffered item and held it at arm's length. "It's a hat?"

"Yes, darling. To keep your head warm in the snow! I bet you didn't know I could knit, did you? See, I'm multi-talented."

The Breton gulped and reluctantly put the hat on his head. "Vibrant red. How... dignified."

"I think so, sweetie. You're wearing it upside down, though. I understand that you want to make a bold statement, but I really think the colour does that for you already..."

Jauffre turned the hat the right way up and closed his eyes in horror at the thought of how he must look. _By the Nine..._ He really, _really_ needed to find that sodding helmet.

* * *

"Brother Harrow! Sir! I --"

"Let me guess," Harrow interrupted, looking up from the parchment he had been writing on. "You have _news_."

The Breton stopped in his tracks, dumbfounded. "Brother, sir, how did you know?"

"Just a hunch." Harrow resumed his idle scribbling. "Continue, uhh, Ernard. Ernando. Whatever."

"My name is Everard, sir."

"That's what I said." Harrow lifted the parchment and surveyed it critically. It was the wanted poster of Pente that he had been given for identification purposes a while ago, except there was now a rather magnificent moustache and beard scrawled over the picture. It seemed Harrow could be rather immature when he was bored. That or he was slowly going crazy.

"Um, right, sir. Alright." The Breton coughed nervously. "The, uhm, Oblivion Gates. The ones that were set up outside the cities. They..." He gulped and loosened the collar of his robes. "There's been reports that, um..."

"Spit it out," Harrow snapped irritably. The Breton let out a tiny whimper - Harrow had been really grouchy, lately. Even more so than _usual_. He was kind of scary when he was like this.

"They're being closed." Everard flinched as Harrow let out a dangerous-sounding hiss of anger. He began ticking off cities on his fingers as he spoke. "The one at Bruma is disabled, and more recently there were r-reports of the Gates at Anvil, Skingrad, Chorrol --"

"_Enough!_" thundered Harrow, his hands trembling as he rose to his feet. "Which ones are still active?"

Everard trembled and cringed away from the Dunmer. "The others still stand, as far as we know. Though we haven't heard back from our scouts at Cheydinhal, yet --"

"ARGH!" Harrow screeched, ripping apart the defaced poster in his fury. "Need I even ask who's doing this?"

"...Th-there were clear sightings of _her_ with a couple of men in Anvil, and there have been separate reports of all her party since. It appears they split up at some point."

"_Pente_."

"Yes, brother, sir."

Blinding fury rushed through Harrow's veins, and he vaguely wondered whether the pain in his head was his mind snapping in two. This was _utterly intolerable_. Inconceivable. Incomprehensible! How could it be that a tiny little Bosmer could... how... but... This couldn't be. It was simply _not possible! No!  
_

This couldn't be allowed to continue. Pente - _curse_ the little s'wit! - was an annoyance that had to be dealt with. This had gone on for far, far too long. Little piddling Oblivion Gates and assassination attempts simply weren't going to cut it anymore.

Little Gates didn't work... but what about a _big_ one? The biggest. Bigger than the one that had temporarily opened at Kvatch, big enough to release the siege engine again, big enough to level another city...

_That's it!  
_

Harrow began laughing. _Yes_. While the dirty little fetcher was off prancing around and finishing off the rest of the Gates, he would open a Great Gate near her beloved Bruma, destroy the city, and hopefully get hold of the Septim heir and the Mysterium Xarxes at the same time. _Perfect_. And then, with her spirit broken, it would be easy enough to find her and --

"Brother Harrow? Sir?"

Harrow clenched his teeth. Now, if only he could think of a way to contact--

"Sir? Sir, are you alright?"

_Ah... That would do it._

"Edouard," Harrow said smoothly, putting a friendly arm around the Breton's shoulders. "I'm perfectly fine."

"Everard, sir."

"Indeed. I have a very special mission for you. You remember your training when you first joined our order, I assume?"

"Of course. The sermons, the beatings, the mental conditioning, the promises of power --"

"Excellent!" Harrow beamed encouragingly. "Then I'm sure you remember the phrases you were encouraged to learn, yes?"

"Oh, yes, brother."

"Go on, then. Let's have a little refresher. Tell me."

Everard blinked, puzzled. "Dawn is breaking?"

"Not that one."

"Greet the new day?"

Harrow smiled. "Keep going!"

"Paradise awaits us." The Breton paused. "I do not fear death..."

"Oh! That's convenient," Harrow sighed happily, thrusting his dagger underneath Everard's ribs. As the Breton fell to the floor, a dark stain spreading across his robes, Harrow patted his cheek cheerily. "Just pass on all that information you gave me to the Master, won't you? Tell him I sent you. And put in a request for a Great Gate for me, there's a good chap."

Everard gurgled painfully as his vision began to darken. "S-sir..."

"There, now. If you're going to die, at least be quiet about it. Paradise awaits you." Harrow turned and walked away, rubbing the back of his neck. Well, talk about killing two cliff racers with one arrow! Things should be a lot quieter around here, now. _Perfect_, he thought, giggling quietly.


	24. Chapter 24: Martin's Master Plan

Cloud Ruler Temple had never looked so beautiful. Pente let out a happy little sigh as she looked up at the ancient stronghold, standing there shrouded in freezing mist. It never failed to amaze her at how much she missed the place, sometimes. "It's _so_ nice to be back, isn't it? _Home_. Safe. No Oblivion Gates in sight, no assassins, no scary Altmer..."

"No Styrbrand..." Baurus added. Pente giggled guiltily.

"That too."

"You know," Baurus said seriously, "I was expecting it to be him who turned up the first time that we met, not you. Remember, back in Luther Broad's?"

"Oh, really? Jauffre was expecting Styrbrand to go back to Weynon Priory with Martin instead of me, too. I think it was a bit of a shock to see the big hero get replaced by, um, someone like me. I think he was a bit unhappy about it, to be honest." Pente paused. "Though he might just have been a bit upset about losing an incredibly important and shiny item only a few hours after being entrusted with it, possibly dooming us all to an eternity of suffering and terror. But either way, he looked _really_ disappointed."

_"I_ wasn't," replied Baurus. They kept walking towards Cloud Ruler Temple, Pente suddenly aware of how warm she felt despite the snow. "I'm really glad you were the one who showed up. I know that being the Hero of Kvatch has caused you lots of problems, and it's been hard work, but I'm still happy that it's you." He took a deep breath. "I guess what I'm trying to say is..."

"Yes?!" Pente squeaked breathlessly as they approached the gates. Baurus raised a hand and knocked on them loudly.

"...That I'd rather kiss you than Styrbrand. I bet the beard itches like all hell."

"Oh, you are just _not_ funny --"

"PEN-NNNNNYYY!" a shrill voice squealed as the stronghold gates were thrown open. "Oh, my little Pente, returned at last!"

"Hello, motheMMmf." Pente found herself being pulled off her feet and crushed against Aranwen's chest in a suffocatingly tight hug. This unfortunately made it _extremely_ difficult to ignore the stream of chatter being blasted into her ears by the clinging mer.

"Darling, thank Y'ffre you're safe! What did I tell you about writing to me while you're gone for too long, young lady? My goodness, I was so _worried!_ You mustn't do that to me again, darling. You have no idea what I was going through!"

"I've... I've only been gone a few d-days," Pente choked, weakly hugging her mother back in the hope that she would loosen her vice-like grip. "A-and Baurus sent a letter! Didn't you get it?"

"Yes, darling, _he_ sent one. But you didn't! For all I know he could have killed you in your sleep or left you in one of those gateway thingies or... or done Arkay knows what!" Aranwen let go of Pente and shook her head dismissively at Baurus. "Oh, no offense meant, dear. Just an example."

"None taken." Baurus lifted his eyes skyward and began to silently count to ten. He _definitely_ hadn't missed Aranwen while they were gone.

Aranwen released a dramatic sigh, pouting sulkily. "And I doubt you'll be staying around for long, will you? You never _do._"

"Th-that's up to Jauffre, but I think we'll have to go soon. I m-mean, he _did_ ask us to get back as soon as we could." Pente shuffled her feet awkwardly - only her mother could possibly make her feel guilty about _saving the world_, of all things. Aranwen seemed to soften slightly.

"Well, if it's more errands for Jauffy-Waffy... Run along, sweetie. It's rude to keep him waiting. Honestly." Aranwen waved a hand towards the temple. "I'll try and find Marty to let him know you're home, I'm sure he'll be pleased. Though I don't know _where_ he's got to; maybe he's playing with that silly invisibility trick again." She patted Pente on the head and flounced off, muttering to herself. "I can't think why he'd want to be invisible in the _first_ place..."

"_Jauffy-Waffy_. Looks like the nicknames got even more ridiculous while we were gone," Baurus commented. "Come on. Let's find _Jaufferty-waffle-snoogieface_ and get up to speed."

* * *

Things back at the Mythic Dawn's hideout were most certainly not going well. As Harrow approached the main room of their Ayleid ruin, he paused. Three of his brethren were conversing in hushed tones, clearly not wanting to be overheard. Obviously, that meant that they were saying something worth listening to. A stealthy approach was clearly in order!

"I still say he's lost it. Gone mad. Lost his marbles. Aligned himself with Sheogorath, one might say."

"Possibly, though we can't discount the theory that he overdosed on intelligence-draining potions. Think about it - Everard _slipped and fell on an upturned dagger?_ Come on. The mer we know would have thought of something better than _that_."

"I don't know, you guys. He probably just believes that he doesn't _need_ to think up excuses for things. He thinks he's in charge now, after all --"

"Who are we talking about? Anyone I know?" Harrow snapped, suddenly appearing in the doorway of the Ayleid ruin. The other cultists quickly fell silent as the Dunmer stomped his way through the hall, giving the leftover fragments of the Dagon statue a pat as he passed them. _We really should go back to the caverns and pick up a few more of the pieces,_ he mused. _Although worshipping Dagon's foot isn't that bad, I suppose. It definitely could be worse, I mean, at least it's not his --_

"Hello, brother. We _definitely_ weren't talking about you," one cultist piped up, earning himself a punch to the gut from each of his companions. It was really best not to antagonise Harrow, especially considering how _delicate _ he'd been lately. Another Mythic Dawn member hurried to rectify any damage.

"Brother Harrow! We were, ah, talking about, uhm, that Ocato fellow. Yes. That power-hungry old fool! If he thinks he's really in charge, he must be..." the cultist trailed off, watching Harrow suddenly burst into laughter at the huge stone foot. "...completely mad."

"Oh." Harrow pulled out his knife and began toying with it, apparently not aware of what he was doing. "If Ocato isn't in charge, then who _is?"_

The cultists glanced at each other desperately before answering in unison.

"You, Harrow, your supremeness!"

"Our Lord, Mehrunes Dagon!"

"Mankar Camoran!"

_Bugger._ Well, _one_ of them had to be right.

"Very good!" Harrow beamed, not making it clear who - if any of them - had selected the answer he wanted. "Don't you forget it." He looked around the room, shaking his head slightly. So _this_ was what was left of the Mythic Dawn. They looked pitiful, really. There were only ten members left, not counting Harrow himself, and they didn't exactly look scary. Since that Bosmeri s'wit had started interfering with their plans, the cult had amounted to little more than a group of hermits wandering around in red pyjamas and occasionally cackling evilly. Even Else God-Hater had lost her vitriol, for Dagon's sake!

_But now... _Harrow smiled to himself. _Now, that's all going to change._

"My brethren! I'm going out," Harrow announced. "I'll be gone for a few days. While I'm away I expect you all to be back here making your preparations."

"Preparations for what, brother?" one woman asked, slightly confused. Harrow's smile widened.

"Why, we'll be making our move against the Septim heir, of course! I'm heading down to Skingrad to procure some rather elusive supplies for the coming battle." He was also going to pay a visit to that alchemist girl, Falanu Hlaalu, but the others really didn't need to know about _that._ Harrow sighed dreamily. By Dagon's loincloth, the things that girl could do with a skeleton-summoning spell were just --

"Battle, brother? Are we really in a fit state to be fighting?"

"We will be," Harrow intoned, trying to make his voice sound deep and foreboding to give his announcement the proper gravitas. This only resulted in him sounding like he had suddenly developed a rather nasty cold, but the sentiment was there nonetheless. "We'll be opening another Great Gate. The Daedric siege engine will ride again! Bruma will fall as Kvatch fell, and we will prove victorious! For the Master!" he screeched, lifting his arms into the air. Partly due to enthusiasm and partly from fear, the little group of cultists burst into applause. Well, this _was_ good news! With the power of a Great Gate on their side, nothing could possibly go wrong.

* * *

Baurus let out a huge sigh. "Great. Yet again, we get sent out to save the world by picking up a sparkly magical object of infinite power from a location filled with danger. Without any kind of rest period. Jauffre has the most sensible ideas sometimes." He shook his head. "That weird hat he was wearing must have been sapping his brainpower. At least the colour suited him, I guess." He sighed once more. "Well, if we're off again tomorrow, we'd better go get some fresh potions from the storage room..."

Unable to hide her shock, Pente turned to face the Redguard. "Hey, it's supposed to be _me_ who complains about this kind of thing! Then you say something comforting. Usually about cake. Are you okay?"

"Oh, fine! Just... you know." Baurus shrugged, grinning. "It'd be nice to have a break once in a while. Relax, maybe, uh..._ take you to visit the petting zoo_..."

"Is that where the unicorn is?" Pente asked absently, opening the storage room doors.

"Pen, I already told you that _I don't have a unicorn --_"

"BY THE NINE!" Pente shrieked suddenly, leaping backwards in shock. "Wh-what are _you _doing in there?!"

Baurus' first reaction was puzzlement, followed by the urge to laugh hysterically, which he thankfully managed to restrain. Inside the little room, looking thoroughly horrified, were Martin and Narina. _Wow,_ the Redguard thought. _Deja vu._

"Merciful F-Father Akatosh!" Martin yelped, exiting the confined space as quickly as he could and pulling Narina out alongside him. "You're back! I mean, ah, thank the Nine you found us! Um, hello. Greetings. Welcome home. Is everything, um, alright? Friends?"

"Hello, I... It's nice to see... Um, why were you in the cupboard?" Pente asked, thoroughly confused.

Narina spoke up, her voice rather less confident-sounding than usual. "We got, um, stuck. Martin was showing me this ancient Akaviri... fork." She hurriedly pulled a fork from the storage room and held it aloft. "Just... Just look at the craftsmanship. Wonderful."

Pente leaned over to inspect the proffered cutlery. "It doesn't look any different to a normal fork to me... I suppose I just don't know enough about what makes it special. Could you show me?"

"Showing her your fork, eh?" Baurus murmured, grinning at Martin. "There's potential for a filthy pun there, don't you think --"

"Oh, hush," Martin muttered, scowling slightly. "It's not like I'm the only one around here who got caught in a cupboard for totally..." his voice faltered, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "For _totally innocent reasons."_

Baurus' face fell. "Oh, well, uh..."

Martin nodded. "I _knew_ it! Neither of us wants to get killed by Aranwen, I'm sure. So if you stay quiet, I will too."

"The Countess has been teaching you how to negotiate, hasn't she?" Baurus grumbled. "Deal."

"...And so, it's actually the curve of the prongs that give it away as being of Akaviri origin," Narina finished loudly. Pente squinted at the fork enthusiastically.

"Wow. To think that for all these years I might have been eating with antiques without knowing about it!"

"Yes. Um, it's getting awfully late, isn't it?" Narina said. "I'd better go..."

"I'll escort you home," Baurus offered. "You shouldn't be walking alone in the dark, especially with the Mythic Dawn hanging around."

Pente yawned widely as Baurus and Narina disappeared from view. "It _is_ late. I guess I should go to sleep, really. We're leaving for the new mission in the morning, after all." Her shoulders sagged mournfully. "Hero stuff is hard work."

"Ah, yes! Miscarcand." Martin nodded briskly. "What time did you say you would be leaving tomorrow...?"

"Around seven, I think. Jauffre said that he wanted us to set off early."

"Ah, of course." Martin beamed. "Anyway, I'll let you go to sleep. Goodnight, Pente." He watched the sleepy Bosmer wander off and ran his fingers thoughtfully through his hair. _Seven_. That didn't leave him with as much time as he'd hoped... It should still be possible, though. His plan would just have to be adapted, slightly. At least this way there'd be fewer witnesses...

_Well,_ thought Martin grimly, _it looks like I have work to do._

* * *

The next day, Jauffre returned from his early morning walk feeling refreshed and cheerful. Life was good. Really - the air was clear, things seemed to finally be under control again, and he was in a relationship with a beautiful (if rather deranged) mer. What more could he ask for?

Except for, say, the Amulet of Kings to suddenly appear in his hands. But that situation would be resolved soon enough, wouldn't it? Pente and Baurus would be heading off to pick up that stone soon, and then it would only be a matter of getting the final item after that. How hard could it be?

Yes, today was going to be an utterly _marvellous_ day. Jauffre was certain of it.

The Breton suddenly stopped in his tracks as he noticed a small sheet of parchment stuck to the temple doors. _What on Nirn...?_ Curiously, he pulled the note down and looked at it.

* * *

_Jauffre-boos, _

_Meet me in the storage cupboard. You know, the one that's big enough for two? Don't be late, darling! I have a surprise for you!_

_- Aranwen_

* * *

Jauffre quickly screwed up the note and put it in his pocket, horridly aware that he was blushing red enough to match his woolly hat. _Talos' toenails_ - he knew that Aranwen could be, well, _adventurous,_ but... the storage cupboard? The one with all the alchemy equipment? Who would want to meet _there_?! Anyone could walk in and...

...But it _was_ early. Nobody was likely to need anything from the cupboard. And, well... how could he refuse an invitation like _this?_

Maybe she'd be wearing the _fishnets.  
_

Striding swiftly through the kitchens, Jauffre peered furtively around the room. Well, it certainly seemed deserted. _Perfect!_ He crept towards the storage room doors, and with a final glance behind him, opened them up and peered inside. "Aranwen...?"

"Sorry, Jauffre."

Before the Grandmaster could even cry out, he was unceremoniously pushed inside the little cupboard. His assailant, concealed with a chameleon spell, swiftly shut and locked the doors. The barely-visible figure let out a shaky sigh and then cast a strong silencing spell on the cupboard, muttering quietly under his breath. The muffled cries from the other side of the doors faded to a dull murmur before ceasing completely, and the crystalline figure relaxed.

The figure's concealing enchantment wore off to reveal a rather guilty-looking Martin resting against the wall. He pulled a sheet of parchment from his robes and attached it to the cupboard doors, carefully adjusting it so that it displayed as prominently as possible. After all, he didn't want Jauffre to be stuck in the cupboard for longer than was necessary.

* * *

_To whom it may concern,_

_Can whoever finds this note let Jauffre out of the cupboard, please? Many thanks. He'll probably be angry, so you might want to stand back._

_Jauffre, I'm sorry, but I wouldn't do this if it wasn't important. I'm going with Pente and Baurus, so I'll be alright. Please don't worry; nothing can go wrong if I'm under the care of the Hero of Kvatch, and I promise I'll be back as quickly as possible. You can shout at me then, if that's what you want to do._

_If Narina comes to visit, could someone please tell her that I'll be back soon? She has no idea I was planning this, so she might get a little worried. _

_My apologies, and thankyou,_

_- Martin_

* * *

Martin shrugged - that would have to suffice. The silencing spell would wear off in an hour even if nobody found the note, so everything should be alright. Should. Jauffre would just have to be patient, that was all.

_Plus,_ he thought as nervousness began clenching at his insides, _there's no going back now. Not after I've assaulted the Grandmaster of the Blades and locked him in a cupboard. _ He patted the wooden doors guiltily. _I really am sorry, Jauffre._

He jerked away with a start - no, there was no time for this! He hastily picked up the small pack filled with supplies that he had prepared, then hurried out of the temple and into the courtyard. _Ah - perfect timing!_ Pente and Baurus were pulling open the stronghold gates, apparently ready to set off on their journey. Martin jogged towards them, calling out loudly. "You two! Baurus! Pente! Wait for me!"

The two exchanged looks of confusion as Martin caught up to them. _Stay calm,_ the Imperial reminded himself, smiling brightly. _Act natural._ Baurus raised his eyebrows.

"Uh, hi, Martin. What are you doing?"

Pente beamed brightly. "Oh, did you get up early to see us off? You didn't have to do that! We'll be fine. Ayleid ruins aren't _that_ dangerous, right?" She glanced at Baurus, who closed his eyes silently. "Right? Baurus?"

"No, no. Didn't anyone tell you? I'm coming along this time," Martin explained. He adjusted his pack and smiled winningly. "Let's go!"

"Wait." Baurus narrowed his eyes. "Jauffre's approved this? _Our_ Jauffre? Bald guy, kind of grumpy, you know - the one who keeps insisting that you don't even extend your pinky finger beyond the temple grounds?"

_Well, when you put it that way..._ Martin struggled to keep his face impassive - his priestly open-ness really wasn't useful for this kind of thing. "Don't you think I'd be more quiet if I was sneaking out of here? Subtle?" he asked innocently. "At the very least, I'd have performed a chameleon spell in order to conceal myself. I'm perfectly capable; would you like a demonstration?"

"Why?" Baurus continued, still suspicious. "Why are you coming? Jauffre didn't tell me anything about this. You'd think it would be the kind of thing he'd have mentioned..."

"He should have mentioned it," Martin said, feigning confusion. "How odd. But, well, I was hoping we could visit Kvatch." He shrugged lightly. "I have some, ah, business there that I really must take care of. It's important, even Jauffre appreciates that. Look, I'll even make my own way back home afterwards if you don't want me around at Miscarcand, but --"

"Of course we want you around!" Pente exclaimed. "And it would be nice to see Kvatch again. Do you think they started rebuilding? Nobody had better have gone through my things! They _wouldn't _have, would they? Only, I left everything behind because of all the, um, killing and _burning_ and stuff."

Baurus didn't seem quite satisfied, but merely shook his head. "Well, I guess we should go. I don't see any angry Jauffres running out to come and get you, so I guess it's fine." Shrugging, he eased the gates shut behind them. "Kvatch first, then Miscarcand, right?"

"Thankyou, my friends!" smiled Martin. "It shall be nice to be out in the open again. Oh, Pente, I'll get to fight alongside you once more! It'll be nice to see how much the Hero of Kvatch has improved after all this time. I bet you can slay Daedra with one hand tied behind your back now, eh? I'm looking forward to seeing it."

"O-oh, sure! Yes. Kill them with a single glance, th-that's me. Um, grrr." Pente shot Baurus a little unhappy glance. _Oh, bugger.  
_

* * *

**Notes:** No, Pente, Ayleid ruins aren't dangerous. Just watch out for the gas traps and spike pits and seething hordes of the undead. You'll be fine. :B 


	25. Chapter 25: Wardrobes and Woodcuttings

Narina knocked at the gates of Cloud Ruler Temple, then turned to face her escort. "My thanks to you as always, Right-Wind. Tolgan should have your payment ready at the castle by the time you return. Same time again tomorrow?"

Right-Wind nodded, bowing respectfully. "As you wish. Thank you for your business."

"No, thank _you_. Farewell, then!" Narina gave the Argonian a brief wave before turning back towards the gates. It was nice to know that the Fighters Guild wasn't completely filled with muscle-bound idiots. Really, Right-Wind was _much_ more agreeable than her previous escort - that Nord fellow, what was his name...? She couldn't quite remember. The tall one with the shiny armour and the hair that reminded her irresistibly of a little fluffy chick... What had happened to him, anyway?

And, more importantly, why wasn't anyone answering her bloody knock at the gate?

Narina banged on the heavy doors again, pounding her fist against the wood as hard as she could. "Hello, in there? Someone? Where _is_ everybody?!"

After a moment, Narina heard a flurry of activity at the other side of the gates. Apparently, the residents of Cloud Ruler hadn't all been murdered in their beds. Good news indeed! The wooden doors were finally heaved open, revealing a very flustered-looking Caroline. The Blade saluted, but the gesture really didn't seem as professional when the person performing it looked so utterly frazzled. "Countess Narina, ma'am! Erm, my apologies for the delay, we're just having a bit of a... a _situation._ I'm sure the Grandmaster will explain everything, assuming he's fully recovered. Oh _dear..._"

"Recovered?" Narina asked sharply. "What do you mean by that? Has something happened? An attack? Is everyone alright?"

"No, no. Well, yes. Sort of. But not like you're thinking, I..." Caroline shrugged helplessly. "It was _Martin."_

"Martin?" Narina suddenly felt faint. "What's happened to him? Is he alright?"

_Nine Divines, please let him be alright! _

"Oh, yes, he's fine. I think. As far as we know." Caroline covered her face with her hands and whimpered, and Narina had to fight back the irrational impulse to slap some sense into the woman. "Look, Jauffre's through here. He'll explain things to you, ma'am."

Forcing herself to maintain the illusion of calm, Narina strode imperiously into the temple. Jauffre was sitting at one of the tables, looking extremely pale even by Breton standards. His mouth was compressed into a tight little line and he seemed utterly furious despite Aranwen murmuring soothingly into his ear.

"Hush, darling, it's alright. I'm sure everything's fine. He's in very good hands, after all."

"...Disobeyed my orders... Can't _believe... _Irresponsible... That... He.. Going to get himself _killed_..."

"There, there. Don't worry so, dear. It's not good for your complexion." Aranwen put a thoughtful finger to her lips. "Although a few wrinkles _can_ look rather dignified on a man."

"Excuse me," Narina said quietly. She didn't want to startle Jauffre too much - he really did look dreadful. Her greeting was either ignored or unheard, however, as the Breton kept muttering under his breath.

"After everything I said... Wilful disregard of my wishes... _Cupboard_..."

"Sweetie, _please_. At least he's with people who can look after him! You know, out of the reach of any bad influences --"

"Excuse me!" Narina said, more loudly this time. The startled reactions she received from Jauffre and Aranwen seemed to indicate that they genuinely hadn't noticed her arrival. "_Where is Martin_?"

"Ah! Countess," Jauffre said, clearly distressed. "You have arrived at a rather unfortunate time..."

"Oh, it's _you,"_ sniffed Aranwen. Jauffre glanced at her disapprovingly, and she grudgingly let out a little sigh. "I mean, hello. _Darling_."

"Good morning. I'm here to see Martin. Where is he?" Narina repeated. Jauffre hung his head.

"We aren't entirely certain."

"What? How can you not... What's going _on_?!" Narina threw up her hands in complete frustration. "I've not been able to get a straight answer from anyone, and frankly, I --"

"Here," Jauffre said bitterly, handing Narina the note that Martin had left attached to the cupboard. "It seems that our future Emperor has decided to completely disregard all the protection we have offered him in favour of traipsing off to Miscarcand with Baurus and Pente."

Narina chewed her lip as she read through the note. "He..."

"He locked me in a _cupboard_," Jauffre continued, shaking slightly with rage. "A silenced bloody _cupboard_. Considering the bizarre and illogical nature of his plans, I can only assume that his travelling companions had some kind of input into that. And if those two _were_ in on this ridiculous plan, I'll have their heads --"

"Meaning?" Aranwen interrupted. Jauffre blinked, his angry scowl lessening somewhat.

"Oh, ah. Figure of speech, dear."

"Good."

"So," Narina said slowly, "Martin has run off - fooling you and all of your Blades in the process - to go and retrieve the Great Welkynd Stone himself?"

"Yes," Jauffre confirmed. Aranwen stroked his back soothingly. "It is a pity that he couldn't learn a bit about being _responsible_ from those books of his."

"Indeed," Narina murmured. "When he gets back, I intend to tell him _exactly _ what I think of him for this."

_Something along the lines of "By the Nine sodding Divines, you're amazing" should do it._

* * *

As he walked down the Gold Road, Pente and Baurus following close behind, Martin was of the firm opinion that this was the oddest journey he'd ever taken. He had travelled with Pente before, of course - they had journeyed from Kvatch to Weynon Priory together (while she wore that _absurd_ nightdress), then from there all the way to Cloud Ruler Temple. However, Martin could only conclude that his head had been so full of worry at the time that he simply never noticed what a... _unique_ travelling companion the mer made. He really didn't remember her jumping and skittering around every time they encountered anything hostile before, but... Well, she was probably excited about their journey. That was probably it. It truly was strange, though. From the way the Bosmer was acting, anyone would think she was actually scared of mudcrabs! 

_How absurd._

Or, of course, it could be Baurus' presence that was making Pente act so strangely. They certainly made an odd pair - for the last few minutes, the Redguard had been teaching her the strangest song that Martin had ever heard. '_To calm her down,'_ he had claimed, although the Imperial couldn't help but suspect that this was all simply for Baurus' own amusement. He really did have the oddest sense of humour, sometimes.

"I don't get it, though," Pente remarked. "The tune is quite pretty and everything, but the words don't make a lot of sense, do they? Are they _supposed _ to? I mean, what would the girl be doing with a carrot, and why would it be magic? Who enchants a _carrot_?!"

"Don't question it," Baurus protested. "_The Lonely Farmer's Daughter And Her Magic Carrot _ is a _classic_."

"If you say so..." Pente wrinkled her nose doubtfully. "I never heard it before. Did you, Martin? Um... Martin?"

Martin had ceased walking and was staring up the road at a small campsite. He squinted and raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, apparently not hearing Pente's words. "Over there... Is that... Hello? Brother Ilav?" he called, breaking into a run as he resumed his journey up the dusty road. "You're alright! Praise Akatosh!"

The closer he got, the more it appeared that Ilav wasn't _quite _ alright. His priests robes, once similar to Martin's own, were shabby and tattered in places. The man looked like he'd aged drastically since the last time Martin had seen him - the Imperial touched his own face unconsciously, inwardly horrified at the thought that he might look that bad. Ilav _was_ looking at him rather oddly, after all. "Brother Martin! This is... unexpected! Are you well? The last we heard, you got dragged off by the Bosmer who closed that Nine-forsaken Oblivion Gate!"

"I'm fine, brother. It's a long story, but... Mara's grace, it's good to see you again." Martin's brow furrowed. "But what are you doing out here? I would never have expected you to be out in the open like this. Camping was never really your style, was it? So how are you coping out here, of all places?"

"I'm coping because I _have_ to," Brother Ilav said bitterly. "We all are. I don't know where you've been, but we're homeless. It's not as if we have a choice in all this."

Pente and Baurus finally caught up to Martin, but he barely noticed their presence. "Homeless? Has nobody begun any kind of reconstruction work? Or found alternative accommodation? Surely you can't be living out here in tents..."

Batul gra-Sharob, an Orc who Martin recognised as the town smith, shook her head. "We aren't builders, brother. We have no money and no supplies. The only ones who've managed to find somewhere else to live are the ones with family in nearby cities."

Martin shook his head in disbelief. "But..." Without another word, he ran off towards the city itself. Pente let out an exhausted little sigh.

"By the bloody N-Nine, how can he still run after coming all this way? I wish he'd say something before zooming off like that..." She caught Brother Ilav glaring at her in disapproval and squeaked apologetically. "Um, sorry. I meant by the bloody Nine, _your holiness_."

When Martin got to the top of the little ridge that separated the campsite from Kvatch, all his fears were confirmed. The town really _was_ in the same condition as he had left it in - the fires weren't still burning, but everything seemed just as desolate and haunting as it had been in his dream. It really seemed like the once-beautiful city was dead.

"Don't run off on your own like that," Baurus said, coming up from behind him. "Look, if me and Pente bring you back home with so much as a scraped knee, Jauffre will kill us. Then he'll go and find a necromancer willing to reanimate our corpses, just so that he can kill us _again_. Then we'll get mad and come back to haunt you as revenge for our double-murder, which will make Jauffre kill us again as ghosts --"

"Sorry," Martin croaked. "But _look_. It's terrible..." He swept a hand towards the ruined city, his face pale with shock. "I can't believe nobody... That it's still like this. Why hasn't anyone helped?" He let his hand drop. "When I'm Emperor, I'll fix it."

Pente looked up in mild surprise. "I don't think I've ever heard you talk about being Emperor before. I bet you'll be good at it."

Martin's eyes narrowed and his jaw was set into an expression that Baurus found oddly reminiscent of Emperor Uriel's more stubborn moods. "Well, I need to start thinking about this kind of thing. It's important." He was silent for a moment, lost in thought. "If anything should happen to me, ah... Would you two promise me that you'll do all you can to help this place?"

Pente emitted a particularly horrified squeak, even by her own standards. "N-nothing's going to happen to you! Don't talk like that, it's scary!"

"Didn't you hear me say what Jauffre would do to us if you got hurt?" Baurus added, flinching. "Do I have to repeat all that again? 'Cause I will."

"I'm _serious_!" Martin looked oddly strained. "Just promise me. It'll make me feel better."

"I p-promise, I guess," Pente stuttered. "But you're just being silly, r-right?"

"Of course," shrugged Martin, as he began to make his way towards the ruined city.

* * *

Jauffre was doing paperwork again. Aranwen couldn't help but wonder why the Breton turned to a quill and parchment for aid whenever he got stressed like this. Honestly - _everyone _ knew that there were far better ways of relaxing than some silly writing. More enjoyable ways, of course. _Hmm, perhaps I should suggest it to him -- _

"There." Jauffre put down his quill with a grimly satisfied half-smile. "Done."

"What is it, snugglemuffin?" Aranwen peered across the desk. "Big important official _boring _ things? Maybe love notes?" She winked. "Oh, sweetie, you don't have to go to all that trouble. I'm right _here_."

"Er, no. I've had quite enough of love letters for one day." Jauffre couldn't help flinching slightly - _damn cupboard_. "I'm just sending out requests for aid to all the nobles of Cyrodiil. In return for closing the Gates around their respective cities, of course." He stroked his chin thoughtfully - hopefully the Nord would have closed the remaining ones by now.

"Aid for what?" Aranwen perched on the end of the desk. "For bringing back Marty? I really don't think you need to do that, darling. He should only be visiting that Misthingyland place, after all."

"Miscarcand."

"That's a nasty cough, sweetie. But use a handkerchief, _honestly_."

Jauffre really wasn't in the mood to argue. "Yes, dear. Anyway, the request has nothing to do with Martin's... little journey. Countess Narina has provided us with a prime location to confront the Mythic Dawn, and --"

"Oh. _She _ did." Aranwen pursed her lips in distaste. "How _wonderful_."

"It is a very selfless and brave thing for her to do," Jauffre said firmly. "As I was saying, I am asking the Counts and Countesses to send over anyone who is willing to help us in the coming battle. Hopefully the extra assistance will swing things in our favour. Or at least keep us from getting overwhelmed too easily..."

"You can count on my help, sweetie! You already know I'm a wonderful shot, if I do say so myself. Archer Aranwen, at your service!" The mer's face lit up in a proud smile. "Oooh, maybe I should go out hunting! It's been a while since I got to practice on a moving target, after all!"

"No!" blurted out Jauffre. "No. I'm sorry, but nobody leaves Cloud Ruler Temple unless it's utterly necessary."

"Oh, silly! I'm quite sure I can hold my own against _deer_. And a harmless-yet-devastatingly-beautiful lady is hardly a likely target for the... the Misty Dark, or whatever they call themselves these days. The rude people. Red robes. Those."

"Yes, but..." Jauffre busied himself with his quill. "Lately I have an awful habit of losing important things when I let them out of my sight. The Amulet of Kings, my helmet, Martin..."

"Oh, you're just the silliest, aren't you?" Aranwen squealed, planting a smudgy kiss on Jauffre's forehead. "I'm not about to disappear, am I?"

"No," Jauffre admitted. "No, you --"

"Well, then!" She clapped her hands with an air of finality. "Goodness, darling, don't worry so. There's no way you could possibly get rid of yours truly, snuggletoes!"

"Indeed." Jauffre felt oddly disturbed. Wouldn't that sentence have felt more like a death sentence than a comfort just a few weeks ago? By Talos, how things changed...

* * *

Despite the state that Kvatch was in, Martin was oddly comforted by being back in his old hometown. It was really hard to place exactly why, but he decided not to question it too much. Apparently, there was a part of him that could see past the devastation and burned-out buildings to the fond memories underneath. 

"Arkay's armpits! What in the name of the Nine is that smell?!"

Baurus was apparently less enthusiastic about their location. Pente didn't seem much more happy with it, either. She screwed up her face. "S-scamps, I think. Eww. There aren't any still around, are there?"

"I'm just going to the chapel," Martin said, half-distracted. "I'll be back in a moment." Upon receiving an answering nod from Baurus, he walked quickly up the chapel steps and entered the building.

Wary of Pente's comment about the possibility of Daedra still being about, Martin glanced around the church interior just to check. He didn't want to be interrupted in his business by a fireball to the head, after all. The chapel was dark, but he seemed to be alone - good. The priest swiftly crossed the room and headed towards the Altar of the Nine, smiling slightly at the familiar surroundings. At least this place was relatively undisturbed... Praise Akatosh for _that_.

At the back of the Church was Martin's objective: an old, exquisitely carved statue of Dibella. The scantily-clad stone figure had always puzzled him, all things considered. Why a statue of Dibella would be in a chapel devoted to Akatosh was quite the puzzle. Privately, Martin suspected that it had something to do with a _very_ lonely priest at some point in the church's past. After all, what other reason would there be for certain areas of the statue to be so, well... _detailed_? Martin approached the back of the stone figure and felt around for his objective, squeezing his eyes shut as he did so. Somehow, it always felt so _disrespectful_ to be doing this --

"So you went to all the trouble of coming out here just so that you could play grab-ass with a statue?" Baurus' voice rang out, his laughter echoing throughout the room. Martin gasped in horror and leaped back as though burned.

"That's not, I, ah... It's not what you think, I assure you!"

Baurus raised a single eyebrow, that infuriating grin still on his face. "Wait 'til I tell Narina that you left her behind in favour of a stone temptress. I'd never have expected it of you, you know."

Exasperated and thoroughly embarrassed, Martin waved Baurus away. "Look, would you mind leaving me alone for a short while? Ask Pente to show you her house, perhaps. Please? I'll come and find you when I'm finished here."

"Well, if you want alone-time with Dibella _that _badly..." Baurus' grin faded. "Are you okay?"

Martin nodded. "Fine. Really. I just have something I need to do." Baurus nodded and left the chapel, while Martin shook himself lightly. _Back to the task at hand._ Muttering a quick prayer of apology to the Aedra, he slipped his hand down the back of Dibella's stone skirt...

_There!_

...And pulled out a small silver key. Excellent, nobody had found it! One of the great things about life in the service of the Divines had been the inventive hiding places. Smiling in a mixture of relief and triumph, Martin hurried down towards the chapel undercroft and opened the door. _At last_.

The undercroft was thankfully deserted - Martin had feared that the Daedra might have tainted the place. _That_ wouldn't have been pleasant. Sighing with relief, he knelt down and pulled up a flagstone from the floor, revealing a hole. Martin reached down into it and pulled out a small box covered with a layer of dirt. Unlocking it with the key he had retrieved from the statue, the Imperial tipped the contents out onto the floor and began hurriedly sorting the items into two piles.

_Alright - the letters home are safe to keep. The condensed volume of the works of Crassius Curio should probably go - not very Emperorly, really. And these woodcuttings... _ Martin squinted and lifted one of the carved images towards the light for a better look. Each of them depicted an incredibly familiar-looking Imperial engaged in various activities associated with the worship of Sanguine. Martin tilted his head and winced - the artist had definitely exaggerated his flexibility in this particular carving. He was quite sure that he'd never been able to bend _that_ way. Firmly, he placed the woodcuttings to one side.

_Definitely not very Emperorly. Let's see, a few coins... Old amulet... Mum's wedding ring..._

_Oh._

Martin put the ring carefully into the pocket of his robes. He definitely had to keep _that_. It would come in useful if he ever felt like proposing to anyone one day. Not that he had anyone in mind, of course. Not at all.

After sweeping the little pile of "un-Emperorly" items to one side, Martin burnt them to ashes using a weak fire spell. Carefully, of course - he didn't want any more of Kvatch going up in flames. There, now there would be no evidence to link Emperor Martin to Martin the Sanguine worshipper! Well, unless old Engorm was still around. That could prove awkward... But unless the old mer had changed considerably since Martin had known him, he could probably be bribed into silence with a lovely new corset. That wasn't something that Martin really wanted to think too much about, though. _Ugh_.

Dusting off his hands, Martin straightened up. All done, thank the gods. It was about time he went to find Baurus and Pente. After all, saving the world was important business!

* * *

"... And this is the wardrobe that I hid in when the Daedra came to eat me. It's a bit smashed up now, but, um, it was prettier before. Less broken. And look, most of my things are still in boxes... I guess the Daedra were only interested in stealing my cake, nothing else. I'm surprised it's all still here!" Pente knelt down by the boxes and began rummaging. 

Baurus had done as Martin asked and requested a tour of Pente's house, and she had been happy to oblige. The Redguard was quite surprised by how eager she'd been - she seemed surprisingly unaffected by their visit to Kvatch, to be honest. She certainly wasn't going through the same mood change as Martin. She didn't appear to have the same conflicting emotions, or the horror at the state of the city...

"Oh, wow! My crystal ball! I'd forgotten about this, look!"

...In fact, she seemed pretty perky. Baurus knelt beside her to examine the trinket she was waving around. "Shiny. I never thought you'd be the type to have one of those."

Pente shrugged. "It was a present from one of my aunts. She's a mage back in Valenwood. Look, it has my name carved into it and everything!" She smiled sheepishly. "That's the only thing I ever _saw_ in the ball, but, um, it's pretty anyway."

As Baurus watched Pente put the crystal orb into her bag, he decided that he had to say something. "You're okay, right? Not upset by being back here or anything? Because you shouldn't repress it. It'll end up making you explode. And, uh, I prefer you un-exploded."

"Eh?" Pente shook her head. "I'm not like Martin. I was only here for a day, remember?" Her eyes misted over slightly. "It was a really, really _good_ day, though. I already told you about the cake, and the house was pretty, and I was finally living away from mother, and everyone here was so friendly... But no matter how nice it was, it was just one day. I just don't miss it like Martin does. A-and besides," she squeaked shyly, "I've had better days since then."

"Ah," said Baurus, offering a sage nod. "Like when you got to run half-naked through Leyawiin. A high point for us all."

"Har har. Really funmMmf." Pente once again found herself muffled into silence by Baurus' lips against hers. It'd be annoying if it wasn't so, well --

"Oh! Ah, sorry." Martin suddenly appeared in the doorway of the room, and the two Blades broke apart quickly. "Ah, I'd have knocked, but, uh... Your door appears to have fallen off." Martin shrugged sheepishly. "Sorry."

"Oh, h-hello, um, yes. I was choking," Pente yelped, "and Baurus was helping me breathe and it totally w-wasn't what it looked like, honestly, well, if it looked like we were kissing or something which we _weren't_. H-hah, kissing? What gave you that idea --"

"He knows," Baurus muttered. Pente quietened down.

"Oh. Don't tell mother."

"I won't," Martin said, smiling weakly. "This was your house, then?"

"Uh-huh. Um, for a little while."

Martin nodded. _Of course_. This was the room that Martin had started his dream about Miscarcand in - apparently, prophecy was rather fond of coincidences. "It's nice. Or I expect it _was, _before it got, um, burned. Ah, are we leaving, then? I assume we should hurry."

Baurus noted that Martin seemed a little more upbeat now that he had finished his business in Kvatch. _Good_. "Right. You're coming to Miscarcand too, then? Not making your own way back to Cloud Ruler like you said you would?"

Grinning, Martin shook his head. "Of course not. Go off on my own? Are you mad? I might scrape a knee."

* * *

It was getting dark by the time that the three friends reached Miscarcand. Pente stared at the graceful white architecture in amazement - who knew that Ayleid ruins were so pretty? All the arches and columns looked beautiful in the moonlight. It gave them an eerie yet graceful glow as they shone faintly against the darkness of the sky. _No_, Pente thought happily, _this place can't possibly be dangerous. I wonder if the Welkynd Stone thingy is pretty, too?  
_

"Be careful, everyone," Martin said, breaking into Pente's thoughts. "I've done nothing but study these ruins lately, and they're a lot more dangerous than they appear. Tread carefully, we don't want to get caught in any traps."

Pente's face fell. _Bugger_.

With Baurus in the lead, the little group entered the doorway of the ruin. Martin lit a torch so that they could see better in the darkness, and they crept down the stairs, testing each step as they went. Her stomach fluttering nervously, Pente began chewing at her thumbnail. This place definitely seemed scarier now. The eerie blue light, the cobwebs, the faint noises coming from below...

"Did you hear that?" Baurus whispered suddenly. Martin shook his head.

"I didn't hear anything. What was it?"

"I thought..." Baurus glanced at Pente, noting her fearful expression. "Oh, um, nothing. Just the wind." They emerged from the little stairwell into the upper level of a larger room, which was once again lit up with that odd blue light. Martin suddenly paused.

"Wait, now I think _I_ heard something. Voices?"

"Damn," Baurus muttered. "Stay there." He crept forward and peered down into the lower level of the ruin. After a second, his mouth dropped open in horror. "Fetching _hell_," he whispered. "Martin! Put the torch out!"

Martin did as he was asked, then crept towards Baurus, Pente following close behind. The Imperial paled as he looked down into the lower area of the hallway. "B-by the Nine!"

"We're all going to die," Pente whispered, unable to take her eyes off the sight below. "We're going to get slaughtered. Sliced up. Burned to bits. _Murdered_."

Baurus couldn't quite bring himself to contradict the mer as he looked at the group of red-robed figures milling about below him. Unfortunately, it appeared as if the Mythic Dawn had chosen Miscarcand as the location of their new hideout.

_So what now?_

* * *

**Notes: **Pheonicia gets insane amounts of thanks for helping with this chapter. And being generally awesome. Whee! 


	26. Chapter 26: Miscarcand

"We're going to die," Pente repeated, a furious note tainting her whispers. "W-well, isn't that just _wonderful?_ I c-can't possibly convey how happy I am to be dying in a stupid bloody ruin. In the dark. And I bet it's going to be slow and painful and needlessly violent, too, just to make things even _worse _–"

"Shh," mumbled Baurus, his eyes still fixed on the group of red-robed cultists below. "I'm thinking."

"Th-thinking? Thinking _never _ ends well!" Pente whispered, sounding utterly hysterical now. "We never got through anything by_ thinking _about it before! It was always blind luck that kept us alive, or you beating things up, or an accident, or..." she glanced at Martin and cleared her throat nervously. "Or _skill_. Copious amounts of skill." She fell silent and hugged her knees, rocking slightly in her agitation.

"You know," Martin breathed, not listening to Pente's babble, "we might actually have the advantage here."

"Huh? Well, if it comes to a fight, we at least have the high ground." Baurus was mentally mapping out battle plans in his head - none of them looking like they were going to meet with much success. "But none of us are skilled in archery, so we can't take full advantage of that. We're also outnumbered by more than three to one... so unless we could pick some of the bastards off before they got too close, we'd get overrun _way_ too fast –"

"No, no, that's not what I meant." Being careful not to disturb anything or make too much noise, Martin pointed down towards some vents in the walls around where the cultists were. "You see those? They could be there to let out poison gas, arrows, spikes... Any one of a multitude of traps. The Ayleids were, ah, quite creative in that respect. So if we could trigger the trap somehow, then..."

"Those guys would be in the firing line?" Baurus grinned. "Perfect. So how do we do that?"

"We have to find a switch," Martin mused. "Or a pressure pad, perhaps a lever... Easier said than done, really. Traps are supposed to be well-hidden, after all –"

Pente ceased her traumatised rocking and pointed at a rather large, obvious-looking button set into a raised pedestal further across the room. "Oh. So it's not that one?"

"Ah, well..." Martin coughed lightly. "That could certainly be it." The Imperial's heart sank - if that was the right switch, then it was useless. The button was definitely too far away for them to feasibly reach it without getting caught. Getting to it would require remaining undetected, getting down to the area where the Mythic Dawn were living, then climbing all the way up the pedestal to push the switch. Martin's chameleon spell was reasonably good, but nowhere near advanced enough to cope with that. "I really don't know how we could reach it, though..."

"Oh. Well, just let me know when we're _less_ likely to die, p-please." Pente quietly resumed rocking back and forth. Suspiciously, Martin glanced over at her. She really _was _ acting strangely...

Baurus spoke up, distracting the priest from his thoughts. "Hey, you know magic. Don't you know any spells that can, I don't know... Fly you over there, or something?"

"Ah, no."

"Damn. How about one that can push a switch from far away? What's it called... Telekersomething?"

"Not one that would reach far enough."

"Then maybe a spell that would kill off about ten crazed cultists at once, leaving the way clear for three adventurers to retrieve a big shiny stone without any fuss?"

"Now you're being flippant." Martin scowled at the button. "Couldn't you, um, throw something at it?"

"I can't throw anything _that _far," Baurus said, grinning despite himself. "Not without a slingshot or something. Uh..." He turned to Pente. "Hey, Pente. _Pen!"_

"Hmm? A-are we safe?"

"Almost. Do you have anything we could use as a slingshot? Or a catapult... anything stretchy."

"I'll check. Just a second." Pente began pulling things from her pack. It was startling to see how much useless junk she had accumulated in there, really. She made a mental note to clear it all out when they got back to Cloud Ruler Temple. She was still carrying around incredibly tattered copies of the _Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes,_ the hilt from her old katana, a sigil stone, the crystal ball, her nightdress, a rapidly-growing pile of half-drunk potions...

And _those._

Pente's heart stopped as she stared, aghast, into her bag. What were _they_ doing in there?! Was this some kind of joke? Or perhaps... _Mother. Ugh. _ She felt the warmth of a blush creeping over her cheeks as she scowled at the offending items. This was most definitely _not funny. _If someone had done this as a prank, she was going to –

_Hmm. _They _were_ stretchy, though. And nothing else seemed suitable...

_Oh, Gods damn it._

Scowling deeply, Pente pulled a pair of fishnet stockings from her bag. Stubbornly ignoring Baurus' snort of mirth, she shoved them into his hand. "If you make _one _ smart comment," she hissed furiously, "I will... I'll... do something really, really horrible. Something so mean that I haven't even _thought_ of it yet. Involving mudcrabs."

Baurus tried to hold back his laughter. "But there are so many possibili–"

"I'm _w-warning_ you."

"Can't I even ask why –"

"No. Don't make me _kill_ you," Pente whispered as fiercely as she could. "J-just do what you have to do to p-press the stupid bloody switch so we can burn those stupid bloody stockings and forget this happened. And _you_," she added, glaring at Martin, "can stop laughing as well, Mr. Ex-Sanguine-Worshipper."

Assuming an innocent expression, the Imperial clasped his hands together in a saintly manner. "Laugh? I don't know _what_ you mean. I am but a simple priest of Akatosh, after all. I would never find amusement in something so puerile." A picture of angelic piety, he turned to Baurus. "Will the, ah, articles in question work?"

"Looks like it." Baurus sifted through the rubble on the floor, picking up the occasional stone and surveying it critically before putting it aside. "Now we just need something heavy to put into it. Any ideas?"

After a few moments of scrabbling through her possessions, Pente held out her crystal ball. "Um, how's this? It's kind of heavy. It shouldn't break, either." She tapped it with her knuckles. "See, it's kind of small and fragile-looking, but it's much tougher than it looks."

"Oh, like you!" Martin smiled. Pente looked confused for a moment, then looked sideways with an expression that seemed an awful lot like guilt.

"Oh, uhm, s-sure. Tough as... as a really tough thing, that's me! I'm, um, a veritable killing machine. Rargh." She hurriedly passed the crystal to Baurus. "Um, anyway, uh, there you go. Heavy. Might work. Um."

"Thanks." Baurus put the ball into the stocking and whirled it around his head experimentally. It definitely _seemed_ like it would work. Well, at least in theory. The only trouble was that things never seemed to turn out like they were supposed to any more, did they? "If I miss," the Redguard continued, whirling the makeshift projectile faster, "you two run like hell."

"Not a problem," Pente mumbled. "Uh, not that I do a lot of running or anything. I take a more _stabby _ approach to things. Grrr. Running is for wimps and, um, stuff."

After building up enough momentum, Baurus released his grip on the stockings and flung the makeshift missile towards the far-off stone button. It soared through the air with surprising accuracy as it hurtled towards its goal and hit the switch with a resounding crack.

For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. A frightened voice sounded from the room below them.

"What was that? Who's there?!"

"By Dagon's hairy backside, shut up, Ranaline. It was probably just the goblins again--"

The voices were cut off as screams began emanating from below, and Pente clapped her hands over her ears so she didn't have to hear. _Horrible._ She would have felt sorry for them if it wasn't for the whole thing about them being a murderous, bloodthirsty cult of crazies with a habit of trying to kill her and her friends. Most unfortunate, that. After a moment, she tentatively uncovered her ears. "D-done?"

Baurus glanced down over the parapet, then looked away with a grimace. "Yeah, it's okay now. It looks like we got 'em all. Poisoned darts, by the look of it. Nasty."

"Friendly types, those Ayleids," Martin gulped. "Very hospitable. We should proceed with caution."

Together, the little group made their way down into the lower level of the ruin. Despite her steadfast refusal to even glance at any of the corpses that now lay on the floor, Pente's skin had taken on a distinctly greenish tone. Baurus gave her a reassuring pat.

"Hey, it's okay. Don't be so down; they were a bunch of murdering scum, after all. They didn't have any qualms about killing off Emperor Uriel." His mouth twitched slightly. "Oh, unless you're just upset at losing a perfectly serviceable pair of stockings, of course, but we can just buy you some new –"

"If you're trying to kill me with embarrassment," Pente grumbled, "then carry on."

"That's odd," Martin piped up. Pente looked towards him, only to see the Imperial gently running his fingers along the edges of a doorway with an air of utmost concentration. _Eww, he doesn't have a thing about stone, does he? Ick. I mean, after what Baurus saw him doing to poor Dibella's statue...  
_

"What's wrong?" Baurus asked, snapping Pente out of her incredibly disturbing train of thought. "It's... just a door."

"It's been magically sealed. Recently, it seems." Martin looked inexplicably unhappy about this. "From this side."

"Is that bad?" asked Pente. To be perfectly honest, she didn't think that they had anything to fear from a bloody _door._ Sure, if the doorway was some kind of evil sentient exit that was poised to kill and eat them as they tried to pass through it, then _that_ would be scary. But this? It was just a pretty white stone door. Not intimidating at _all._

_Oh, unless that's what it wants us to think!_ Pente took a step back. _G-great. Now I'm developing a phobia of sodding _doors_._

"Well, because it's been sealed from our end, that would infer that there was something behind it worth sealing away." Martin cautiously put his ear against the door, listening carefully. "I assume you have heard the rumour about this place? That the King of Miscarcand still guards his throne here?" He looked at the door in mistrust.

"He'd be a ghost now, right? The king guy." Baurus glanced at Pente. Considering the way she'd reacted to _friendly_ ghosts back in Sancre Tor, this didn't bode well. Martin shrugged with exaggerated lightness.

"A lich would be more likely."

"Baurus? What's a lich?" Pente whispered. "Is it as scary as a ghost?"

"Uh, no. Of course not." The Redguard quickly turned away and faced the door. "Well, it's the only exit, so we don't exactly have a choice. Would a seal like that really stand up to a lich, anyway?"

"Oh... Possibly not. You're right." Martin still seemed slightly doubtful, but he could definitely appreciate Baurus' logic. "Just a second, then." With a muttered word and a wave of his hand, he dispelled the magic seal on the door and gingerly pushed it open.

"There's... nothing there," Baurus said, trying not to show how relieved he was. "C'mon, let's..."

"C-can you hear that?" Pente whispered, tilting her head to one side. "Listen!"

Martin furrowed his brow slightly. "Is that rumbling?"

"This isn't good," Baurus mumbled, before grabbing Pente's arm and dragging her away from the door. Martin followed them, but Pente's attention was fully focused on the opening and what was coming out of it.

"E-eww! _Goblins!"_

At least twenty of the yammering creatures poured through the doorway, brandishing their weapons and screeching angrily. Pente let out an audible gulp. "O-oh my. They don't look h-happy, do they? I mean, e-even by goblin standards."

Neither of her companions had a chance to answer before the goblins converged on them. There was a brief scuffle, a high-pitched scream, then all was still.

* * *

Harrow was, to put it bluntly, _really sodding annoyed_.

That was nothing unusual these days, but it certainly wasn't helping him with those rather violent urges he'd been having lately. He glared across the counter of _All Things Alchemical_ at the Altmer who was supposedly now responsible for running the shop. "Listen... what did you say your name was? Sindoomoo? Synderius?"

"Sinderion."

"Whatever. What do you mean, Falanu's 'unavailable'?! She's a _very_ close friend of mine. Very close indeed. Just run along and fetch her, I'm sure she'll be happy to see me." Harrow's urge to stab someone only grew as he received no response from Sinderion. "Look, if she's up in her rooms with a corpse, it's _alright. _ I know all about her... shall we say, _unusual_ tastes –"

"Yes, well, so do the city guards."

"Excuse me?" Harrow narrowed his eyes suspiciously and the Altmer let out a patronising sigh.

"She was arrested a couple of days ago. There was an incident in the city graveyard; I don't know all the details. Very scandalous. The only thing they could get out of the guard that found her was _'bones everywhere'_ before he collapsed, and he's not been quite right since."

Harrow's lip curled in distaste. "She got caught." _Trust a Hlaalu dimwit to be idiotic enough to get arrested. Stupid fetcher._ "Then I'll make this quick. I'll be needing supplies of all _these_ potions," he sniffed, handing Sinderion the list. The Altmer scanned it briefly.

"Very good, sir. Five hundred and sixty-three Septims, please."

"No, no." Harrow smiled patronisingly. "Falanu gives me a special discount. We have a special _arrangement_, you see."

"As you keep saying. But I'm not Falanu, so it'll be full price today." The corners of Sinderion's mouth curled slightly upwards into a mocking half-smile. "_So_ sorry for the inconvenience."

Harrow's eye twitched violently as he slammed the money down on the shop counter. Scooping the potion bottles into his pack, he glared beadily at the alchemist. "When I take over the world, I'll make sure you're one of the first to die."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Oh, nothing. Cheerio!" The Dunmer put on a huge insincere smile as he left the shop, inwardly fuming. _Well, that was a complete waste of bloody time! Argh. By Dagon's unshaven armpits!_ He stamped down the streets of Skingrad, his hand making little convulsive moments towards the dagger at his belt. _Damned __alchemists! Damned guards! Damn bloody Falanu! How dare she get herself caught, how DARE she --_

"Psst!"

_That_ was an annoying sound. Harrow thought it best to ignore it. Well, he'd just have to go straight back to Miscarcand, that was all. At least there, he --

"Psst! Over here!"

...at least there, he wouldn't run into any --

"You! Yes, you! We need to talk!"

_...annoyances._

"Go _away,_" he hissed, glaring down at the twitchy little Bosmer man who had run out in front of him. Damned Wood Elves. They had such a knack for getting in the way!

"No, please, we need to talk, quickly! While there's nobody around to overhear! You look like the kind of fellow who could help me," the mer wheedled. "They're all after me, you see. All of them! Following... Always following! The Dark Brotherhood... The Maruhkati... The Mythic Dawn!"

"_Really._" Harrow curiously stroked the stubble on his chin. "And who might you be?"

"Shh!" The Bosmer looked furtively from side to side before continuing in a whisper. "Glarthir. Please, you really must be quiet, they have ears everywhere!"

"Never heard of you. We're not after you yet." The Dunmer beamed reassuringly and patted Glarthir on the head. "Feeling better? Now sod off."

The Bosmer choked, staggering backwards. "Y-you said _we!_ You must be one of... of _them!_"

"The Mythic Dawn." Harrow's face split into a thin, toothy smile. "_Boo."  
_

As the deranged little mer scuttled off, screaming hysterically, Harrow couldn't help but smile. Maybe his trip hadn't been a _complete_ waste of time, after all! He set off back towards Miscarcand, his mood considerably lightened.

* * *

Baurus breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank the Nine for screaming Bosmers."

Martin nodded in agreement as he watched Pente trying to arrange a crowd of suddenly-docile goblins into some kind of order. "Indeed. Her beast tongue ability is really very impressive! I've seen it used to control smaller groups of creatures before, but nothing like this. There must be twenty of them –"

"Twenty-three!" Pente corrected him, beaming and flushed with pride. She trotted over to the two men, with her newly-assembled team of goblins following meekly behind. "It's a bit tricky keeping them all in check, but I think I can handle it. I even gave them names so it should be easier to order them around."

Baurus nodded sagely, but Martin was less accustomed to Pente's more _unusual_ whims. He put a hand over his eyes. "You... You named the goblins."

"Well, I had to! Their original names all sounded the same to me. Grug and Brug and Grub and... stuff. They were too easy to mix up, you see. So now they're Biscuit and Sprinkles and Sugar and Narlin and Angel and Jauffre Junior and..."

Baurus couldn't hold back a snort of laughter as Pente indicated a very serious, world-weary goblin at this point. "Nice names." The Bosmer smiled affectionately.

"Aww, you th-think so? _That_ one's called Baury-bear. He's my favourite."

"Yeah, uh, well... Let's keep going. We still have to find the stone," Baurus blustered, trying to ignore Martin's snickering. They walked onwards through the doorway, and Pente looked around with detached interest. The next chamber was bathed in the same eerie blue glow as before, but it seemed brighter down here. Pente wondered how that could be, chewing her lip thoughtfully. _Isn't it supposed to get darker as you go further down?_ The light was really very distracting. The intensity of it at some points left the Bosmer with lingering spots in her vision as it faded. Like now, for example. She squinted uncomfortably and tried to shake her head clear. _Gosh, this is annoying. And that spot of light almost looks like a --_

"G-GHOST!" she shrieked, turning and running back the way they'd entered, bumping heavily into Martin as she did so. The goblins began shrieking and flailing in imitation of their leader, running in circles and bumping into each other to complete the effect. Annoyance briefly overrode Pente's fear, and she pointed at one of the screeching creatures. "Stop that! B-behave! Go kill the g-ghost, you're not supposed to _run!"_

Surprisingly, the goblin responded instantly and ran towards the ghost, swiping at it fiercely with a rusty dagger. Pente beamed despite herself. _Wow!_

"What are you doing?" Martin asked, looking from Pente to the spectre and back again. "Why don't we just --"

"I'm _delegating_," replied Pente. "Wow, this feels like I'm the leader of an army or something. General Pente! No, _Grandmaster_ Pente! This must be how Jauffre feels when he sends us off to do things like this. Except Jauffre always looks kind of grumpy about it." Her voice wavered as she watched her goblin struggling against the ghost. "Um, h-he doesn't seem to be doing too well, does he?"

"You can't kill ghosts with normal weaponry," Martin said, giving Pente a suspicious little glance. "I assumed you were using the goblin as a distraction --"

"Agh! N-no!" Pente picked up a rock and hurled it ineffectually at the spectre. "Someone! H-help! _Baurus!"  
_

Her screams halted as a fireball engulfed the ghost, reducing it to little more than a charred puddle of glowing ooze. Pente scuttled over to assist her freshly-traumatised goblin, while Baurus released a low whistle.

"Impressive." He prodded the remains of the ghost with the toe of his boot. It reminded him irresistibly of something, but what...? _Oh, yeah. _ "Ugh. Hey, Pente, remember that cake you made?"

"Har har." Pente knelt down beside the injured goblin and began to heal it, her fingers flickering convulsively with each spell she cast. Martin looked at her in utter confusion.

"What are you doing?"

"Shhh!" she hissed, mumbling under her breath as she finished casting. She looked up at Martin, slightly exasperated. "I'm healing him. I know I'm not very good at it yet, but Baurus doesn't know how to do it at all. And I can't ask you to do it, because we'll need you to save your magicka for when we see any more of those g-ghost thingies."

"You're healing it?" Martin shook his head. "That's an odd technique you have. Who taught you it?"

Pente and Baurus exchanged glances. "Someone from the Mages Guild. He taught me the spell. What're you looking at me like that f-for?" she asked indignantly.

"Ah..." Martin grasped for words. Tact was the key here, after all. "So he just taught you the spell itself? Who taught you how to _use_ it?"

"What do you mean? I just..." Pente stretched out her hand towards the goblin again, flexing her fingers with a quick flicking motion to release the spell. "Do that."

"But why so quickly?" Martin asked, a hint of frustration in his words. "You don't allow any time for the spell to form fully. You disperse it before it can get to full strength."

Baurus groaned quietly, and Pente blinked. "But... but..." she protested feebly. "What am I _supposed_ to do?"

"More like this." Martin performed what was essentially the same movement, but slowly. The motion seemed a lot more fluid. "Let it gather in your hand before you release it."

Copying the movement, Pente tried again. This time, there was a visible glow of light in her palm before she cast the spell, and the goblin suddenly looked a lot happier. "...Oh."

"Better?" Martin asked, still looking slightly puzzled. "I don't understand why you never figured that out before. Anyone would think you were new to using magic!" A faint smile crossed his features. "You're very deceptive when it comes to your skills, you know. It almost seems as though you're trying to seem completely incompetent at times. No offense, you understand, I don't mean to imply that you're not a hero. The very thought!"

Pente and Baurus glanced hesitantly at each other again, and Pente cleared her throat. It was probably time to come clean. "Well, u-uh, actually..."

* * *

Vlanarus Kvinchal shook himself slightly as he entered The Bloated Float. It was raining pretty heavily outside, which probably explained why the inn was so crowded this evening. As well as the usual drunken clientèle, there were several unfamiliar faces - tourists? - and a group of Legion soldiers gathered in one of the corners of the tavern, with a furious Hieronymus Lex attempting to get them to be quiet. Pulling a stack of newspapers from his bag, Vlanarus scanned the room for a likely target. Upon spotting a young Nord sitting alone at the bar, he beamed vacantly at him and held out a paper. "Evening, sir! Here you go. Have a copy of the _Black Horse Courier!_"

"No, thanks."

"Nonsense!" the man smiled. "_Everybody_ needs a copy of the _Black Horse Courier!_ It's a special edition. Sure to be a collector's item someday!"

"I just need a _drink,"_ the Nord grumbled, scowling petulantly. "Does the paper come with one?"

"No." Vlanarus paused thoughtfully. "But it _is_ free. Special edition. Very interesting. News about the Hero of Kvatch, you know. All very thrilling!"

"Pente?" mumbled the Nord, snatching the newspaper from Vlanarus' hands and scanning it. His lips moved in time with the words as he read, and by the time he reached the end of the article his face was a mask of furious indignation.

"You!" he yelled, prodding Vlanarus with a gloved finger. "Why are you writing about the _Cheydinhal_ Gate? What about all those other ones that got shut down? Eh? What about _me?!"  
_

_Oh, Gods. More crazies. _Vlanarus stared blankly. "Who _are_ you?"

"Exactly!" the Nord roared. "_Exactly._ Here I am - a perfect specimen of heroic manliness, devastatingly handsome, big shiny sword, all that stuff. The kind of person who _should_ be written about, so I can be remembered throughout the ages! But everyone only notices the weedy little Wood Elf! What in the name of the Nine is _wrong_ with you people?!"

"Pipe down, citizen!" Captain Lex shouted over the noise, pointing at the Nord sternly. "I don't want to have to arrest you for being drunk and disorderly."

The Nord mumbled some rather colourful curses under his breath and crumpled the offending newspaper into a ball. "Been there, done that." He raised a hand to alert Ormil, the bartender. "Ale, please. It's time for me to become Styrbrand, the Unbelievably _Drunk_."

Swigging his drink moodily, Styrbrand scowled at the world in general. Things hadn't gone well for him since he'd closed all the Oblivion Gates. Instead of adulation and squealing fans, he had received a rather lukewarm reaction from the residents of the towns he had saved. Every place had been the same - _"You're not the Hero of Kvatch!"_ or _"Where's the Bosmer girl?"._ He snorted in disgust - _honestly._ Gratitude, it seemed, was dead.

With a sigh, he swirled around the dregs of the ale in his tankard. Was it _really_ too much to ask? All he wanted was a little appreciation. Adoration, perhaps. Oh, and a few nubile and overly-grateful fangirls might be nice. But just getting recognition as the hero he was would suffice! Surely that wasn't unreasonable.

One of the Legion soldiers suddenly got to his feet, swaying slightly. "C'mon then, my fine friendsh," he slurred. "Letsh... letsh go back t'barracksh. Sleep. Then tomorrow, we're be _heroesh_!"

"Heroes!" the other soldiers echoed, with varying degrees of inebriation. Lex hushed them furiously with a frustrated hiss, and Styrbrand quickly leaned over to attract the Imperial's attention.

"Hey, uh, what's going on? Anything good?" he asked enthusiastically. "How are you going to be heroes? Just, uh, asking."

"Everyone who does their part for the Empire is a hero," Hieronymus said piously, trying to ignore the drunken roars from behind him. "But in this case, they're referring to our assignment over in Bruma. There's going to be a huge battle there soon, someone put out a call to arms. Everything's been sanctioned and approved by the High Chancellor. It's not a secret; haven't you heard about it?"

"Uh, no," replied Styrbrand. "_Bruma_, you say? Battle?"

Hmm. This was promising. Perhaps it was time to go back home.

* * *

Martin covered his face with his hands. "This... all explains so much," he muttered, slowly shaking his head. _All those signals..._ Why hadn't he worked it out sooner? Lowering his hands, he narrowed his eyes at Pente. "I bet you _do_ have a phobia of mudcrabs, _don't_ you?"

"Oh, I'm scared of pretty much everything." Pente shrugged in a matter-of-fact sort of way. "S-sorry for not telling you sooner. It's just hard to find the right moment to say _hey, guys, I'm actually not a hero after all. Grade A wimpling over here. Toodles!_ You, um, know how it is."

The Imperial rolled his eyes. "Of course I do. You already found a moment to tell Baurus, I assume?"

"She was kind of under the influence of blind terror at the time," Baurus supplied helpfully. "That tends to loosen the tongue a bit."

"Anyway, I wasn't exactly trying to lie," Pente mumbled. "I just sort of... got a bit carried away."

_Oh dear._ Martin swallowed. "Well, ah, while we're confessing, I have to admit that perhaps I haven't been _entirely_ truthful with you two myself..."

"Mara's tears! You're not a spy for the Mythic Dawn, are you?! Wait, that makes no sense. Then what..." Possibilities rushed through Pente's head and she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Martin _is_ your real name, isn't it?"

"Um, yes. It's nothing like that, I just... Ah, you recall that I mentioned I had permission from Jauffre to be outside the temple grounds? I may have... Exaggerated. Slightly."

Baurus closed his eyes in horror. "Exaggerated _how_?"

"Well, he didn't _exactly_ give permission for me to leave," Martin answered. His guilty squirming _really_ wasn't making Baurus feel any better.

"What _did_ he say?"

"Ah..." The Imperial suddenly seemed awfully interested in picking at the fabric of his sleeve. "Something about it being more of a stupid idea than trying to convert Aranwen to vegetarianism."

The ruin was silent for a moment as Baurus struggled for something to say. Pente tugged lightly at his arm. "Jauffre's going to _kill_ us, isn't he?"

"Oh, of course."

"Bugger."

"Everything will be alright," Martin said unconvincingly. "If he tries to kill you, I'll just lock him in a cupboard again." The priest's attempt at brightening the mood was completely lost on the two Blades.

"Y-you locked Jauffre in a _cupboard?!"_

Martin waved his hand evasively. "Oh, um, well... Shouldn't we be, ah, moving on?"

The trio continued their steady descent into the depths of the ruin, meeting with surprisingly little resistance along the way. Apart from a few zombies, another ghost and a spiked pit trap that resulted in the tragic loss of the goblin known as Snuffles, things remained rather uneventful. While Pente found the non-threatening environment quite relaxing, it seemed to be having the opposite effect on Baurus. The Redguard seemed twitchy and restless, jumping at shadows and drawing his blade at the slightest noise.

"What's _wrong?_" Pente whispered, as she pulled him back from trying to eviscerate a small mouse. "Being skittish is _my _ job. A-are you okay?"

"It's too easy," Baurus muttered, trying not to alert Martin. "If getting the stone was going to be this simple, why hasn't anyone else taken it before now?"

Pente shrugged. "M-maybe all the traps already got triggered by other people, so we missed them all? Or we're just lucky. Or," she added, beaming, "it could be that whole _destiny_ thing that Styrbrand was always talking about. The stone still being here for us could be pre-destined, or... or something."

Apparently still unconvinced, Baurus shrugged. "Hmm. I don't know... Maybe someone _did_ already take it --"

"It's here!" Martin's shout echoed excitedly from further up the hallway. "Hurry!"

"Oh." the Redguard scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "Never mind."

The two of them ran to join Martin, who stood at the entrance to a room bathed even more deeply in that eerie blue glow than the rest of the ruin. The air was dusty and unnaturally misty, but despite this the Great Welkynd Stone shone piercingly through the darkness, held in place on an impressive-looking stone plinth. Assorted treasure surrounded it - a couple of odd pieces of armour, a few coins and assorted small jewels - but the Welkynd Stone was by far the centrepiece of the room.

"Wow," Pente breathed, her eyes shining as she and the others walked towards the stone. "G-gosh... Just _look_ at it! It's so shiny and pretty and glowy and --"

"Hands _off,"_ Baurus interrupted, slapping a goblin's hand away from the blue crystal. Pente pulled the grumbling creature out of the way and shrugged apologetically, a sheepish smile crossing her features.

"Oh, um, sorry. My fault."

Cautiously, Martin stooped to examine the stone. "It doesn't appear to be trapped, but..." Stepping back, he cast a weak telekinesis spell to retrieve the stone from the pedestal. The crystal soared neatly into his hand, and the group collectively held their breath as they waited for something to happen.

Confusingly, nothing did. It seemed that the stone really _wasn't_ trapped. Pente sighed audibly in relief, and Baurus shrugged lightly.

"Hmph. Guess those rumours about a lich really _were_ just rumours."

"Indeed. Praise Akatosh." Martin stowed the crystal safely into his robes, then cast a wary eye around the room. Like Baurus, he couldn't help but be suspicious of how easy this had been. He was willing to ignore his instincts in favour of getting out as quickly as possible, though. "Shall we go?"

Baurus nodded slowly. "Yeah. Wait - maybe the _exits_ are trapped?" He turned to Pente, who was eyeing the scattered coins covetously. "Wait here. We'll go check to see if it's safe to go, okay?"

"Mmm-hmm." Pente barely registered Baurus and Martin's departure. It couldn't hurt to take the rest of the treasure, could it? Lifting an old, horned Elven helm from the little pile of trinkets, she put it on experimentally. To her dismay, the ancient metal helmet was too big and it fell over her eyes, obscuring her vision. "How in Talos' name are you supposed to fight with one of _these_ on?" she mumbled, feeling vaguely off-balance with the added weight on her head. "I don't know how you manage..."

"Mrrrrrrrrgghhh."

_Oh_ - apparently, the others were back already._ That was fast! _ "What was that? Are you okay? Y-you sound sick!" Pente pushed the helmet further up her forehead, away from her eyes as she looked for the source of the noise. "Baurus? Martin...?"

"Urrrgghh."

"O-o-oh." Pente froze in place as she felt cold, rattling breath on the back of her neck. Turning slowly on the spot, she found herself face to face with the most horrifying thing she'd ever seen... _Including_ the assorted activities at the Shrine of Sanguine. There, blocking her exit from the chamber, was what was once a man - the flesh now decomposed, the robe tattered, and the face a gaping mess of rotting skin and blackened bone. This, apparently, was a lich.

He did _not_ seem happy to have a Bosmer in his domain, stealing his helmet.

Struggling to regain the power of speech, Pente let out a strangled whine. "B-Baurus? I... I th-think I found th-that king lichy thing."

There was no response - unsurprising, considering that she was incapable of anything louder than a squeak. Pente desperately willed her goblin army to run and alert her friends, but it was no use - imitating their leader once again, they were frozen in place, gibbering quietly. The lich let out another foul-smelling breath, but didn't attack. Swallowing nervously, Pente decided to try and buy some time.

"U-u-um. H-hello, your, u-uh, royal, um, kingly supremeness." The lich didn't respond, but it didn't react violently, either. Pente decided that this was a _good_ sign. "L-lovely home you've got here. Very p-pretty. I adore what you've done with all the, um, deathtraps. Beautiful, really --"

The lich pointed accusingly at Pente, and she fell silent. "_Mmmrrrrr_."

"Um, m-me? I'm just nobody." She nodded fervently. "Nobody important. At all." She watched in dismay as the spectre pointed towards the plinth where the Great Welkynd Stone had been. "Oh, you want your, um... o-oh. That was gone when I g-got here. _Gone. Not here_." She wiggled her fingers shakily as if dispelling something, trying to get her meaning across. _Do liches speak Cyrodiilic?_ "I c-could go and ask my friends if they've seen it, just let me go and g-get them..."

"Mrargh!" The lich now indicated the horde of terrified goblins, huddling together in a corner. Smiling nervously, Pente shook her head.

"O-oh, no, they aren't my friends. My friends are, uh, called _BAURUS _and _MARTIN,"_ she clarified, screaming their names as loudly as she could in an attempt to attract their attention. Surely they should be back by now! "I bet they could h-help..."

The lich was definitely losing patience now. "MmmRrRR," it snapped, scattering dust and fragments of mouldy fabric everywhere as it waved its bony arms in irritation. "Ahhrrgmf. _Angua Welkyndbal. Baunewelkyndbal, vasha!"  
_

..."I-interesting," Pente squeaked, gagging slightly at the stench of the putrid fumes coming from the creature's maw. "Y-you make several important p-points –"

With an air of finality the lich raised its arms and began a whispering chant, its hands glowing softly with magicka. Pente scrabbled backwards, her hands outstretched in a protective gesture. "N-no, don't! I'm sorry! We were g-getting on so well, there's no need to ruin it!" The chanting grew faster and the glow from the lich's hands intensified as Pente choked back a horrified sob. "Please! _Someone!"_

Even with her eyes closed, the flash of light that followed pierced Pente's closed eyelids, sending her reeling. There was an accompanying crunch of bone and a deafening screech, then everything was quiet. Keeping her eyes tight shut, Pente decided that dying wasn't _so _ bad. Heck, she didn't feel a thing.

A voice pierced the silence, distorted and fearful. "Pente! Are you okay?"

"Of course not. I'm bloody _dead_. All because stupid Baurus and stupid Martin went off and left me," Pente snapped. "I know I said it was fine for them to go by themselves, but for the love of Y'ffre, th-they should know better than to listen to _me_ –"

"Yeah, you're fine," the voice interrupted her, sounding far more familiar now. "You're not dead, dummy."

Pente opened her eyes cautiously. "I'm not?" The lich was broken apart, scattered on the floor and smouldering slightly. "O-oh, I... Did I do that?" _Wow!_ Pente beamed in delight. This was so exciting - she must have summoned up some kind of latent magical talent in her desperation, just like in the stories she used to read as a child. _Wow, maybe I'm not so weak after all--_

"No," Baurus replied, grinning. "Me. I shoved a torch through his skull. It seems pretty effective."

Filled with an overwhelming surge of emotion, Pente turned to her saviour. "O-oh, Baurus! Y-you saved me _again!_ I–"

She was cut off by a series of enthusiastic squawks from the gang of goblins, who seemed to once again be carrying out the urges of their mistress. Baurus was instantly engulfed by the entire group of them, hugging his limbs and planting happy kisses wherever they could reach. Pente and Martin burst into shocked laughter as the Redguard struggled to throw off his new-found fans, swearing heavily. "Get _off,_" he growled, flinging one of them across the room. As the goblin hit its head against the wall, something seemed to change.

There was a sudden, inexplicable silence. The goblins ceased their activity and looked around, clearly disoriented. Pente suddenly squeaked in panic. "U-um, I don't want to, um, worry anyone, but I th-think..." she quietly started backing away. "I th-think the command spell w-wore off."

"Oh." Martin also started backing away, heading slowly for the exit. "This means we should go?"

"Definitely," Baurus answered, breaking into a run. "Fast!"

As the trio ran for their lives from an incensed team of goblins, Martin couldn't help but wonder if _all_ Baurus and Pente's adventures ended this way. Perhaps being stuck in Cloud Ruler Temple wasn't such a terrible fate, all things considered...

* * *

"I'm back!" Harrow called, striding triumphantly through Miscarcand's entrance. "Are you lot ready? I hope you've all been practising your murdering skills, because..."

His voice wavered uncertainly, then died. _That was odd._ Where was the flurry of activity that usually accompanied his return? The hushed whispers? And it seemed absurd, but the blue light in the ruin seemed somewhat diminished. This was... perplexing, to say the least. Harrow raised his voice as he pressed on further into the ruin. "Else? Hans? _Anyone?_ Ugh... By Dagon's armpits, where..."

Oh. _There_ they were. The Dunmer's mouth gaped open slackly as he entered the main chamber where the bodies of his fellow cultists lay. _How...?_ "I didn't mean for you to practice killing on _each other,_" Harrow wailed, mentally counting through all the corpses littered on the ground. _All_ of them... dead! How could this _be?  
_

A glint of light suddenly caught his eye, unexpected in the darkened atmosphere of the ruin. Curiously, he walked towards it. The twinkle of light seemed to be reflecting from a small, polished object lying in the dust. Picking it up, Harrow pulled a scrap of netting from the object and stared at it. _A crystal ball...?_ And carved in it, there was...

_No._ Harrow refused to believe it. But the evidence was indisputable, the name carved into the crystal shining up at him mockingly. Harrow felt the last lingering shreds of his sanity melt away as he raised his hand and flung the orb to the ground.

"_Pente_," he whispered, his red eyes blazing with unrivalled hatred. "Pente." _She_ had done this! _Her!_ That scheming little fetcher had waited until his back was turned, single-handedly slaughtered his brethren, then... then left this _trinket_ to let him know who was responsible! This was utterly intolerable.

"She _has _ to die," the Dunmer hissed. _Nothing_ else mattered any more. Nothing. The Mythic Dawn, Mankar's plans, Mehrunes Dagon - they were insignificant now. That foul little s'wit simply _had to die_, and Harrow needed to be the one to make it happen as messily and painfully as possible.

It was time to open that Great Gate, then. _Excellent._

* * *


	27. Chapter 27: Triumphant Return

Caroline stifled a yawn as she looked out over the walls of Cloud Ruler Temple. Like most of her fellow Blades, she was not fond of being on the night shift. Guard duty was dull and monotonous at the best of times, but there was a special kind of crushing boredom associated with doing it through the night. As the sun began to rise, rays of light struggling to pierce the thick fog, the Blade sighed contentedly. The arrival of morning signalled that it would soon be time for Roliand to come and relieve her of her post, and then she could finally get some well-deserved sleep. At last –

The Breton was startled out of her dreamy musings about soft beds by a cacophony of banging on the gates below. Startled, she leaned over the wall and squinted in a vain attempt to pierce the dense morning mist. "Um, who goes there? Speak your intent, or –"

"Caroline? It's us, we brought Martin back. Let us in, would you?"

"Oh!" Caroline gasped at the wonderfully familiar voice. "Baurus! I'll be right down!" She rushed down towards the gates as quickly as she could, her armour clanking noisily all the way. "Thank Talos everything's alright, it'll be such a load off the Grandmaster's mind," she chirped, hastily unbolting the gates. "Since you ran off like that, he's been... He..." Caroline trailed off into silence as she flung the gates open and took in the sight in front of her. "Oh my... You three are in _so much trouble_."

"No need to sound so delighted about it," Baurus grumbled, stomping past her through the gates. All three of them were in quite a state - Martin was dishevelled and windswept (though thankfully uninjured), Pente was wearing a ridiculous-looking helmet that obscured half her face yet didn't hide her traumatised expression, and Baurus was covered in tiny scratches and scrapes that suggested he'd been attacked by a herd of... of _something_. Caroline wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"You stink of goblin."

Baurus made a little growling noise in response. Attempting a weak little half-smile, Martin pointed towards the main building of the temple. "Hello again. Ah, is Jauffre in there?"

"Probably. I can go and check for you if you're trying to avoid him," Caroline offered. "It might be a good idea, really, you should have _seen_ him when we opened that cupboard! I don't think I've ever seen anyone look so mad." Her eyes misted over slightly at the memory. "His face was purple. _Purple_."

"Wonderful," Martin muttered. "No, there's no use avoiding the matter. It's best we get this over with. Ready, you two?"

"Sure." Baurus sighed dejectedly. "Why not?"

"Because he'll _kill us all?"_ Pente suggested, through gritted teeth. "Do we really h-have to go in there? I have a good backup plan for if you just want to run away, I've been working on it for a while. Basically, we all paint ourselves green and go find a nest of goblins –"

"Please," Baurus interjected, "Don't mention goblins for a while. _Please_." He shuddered, his eyes closing as he relived the memories. "I still feel so _violated_..."

Smiling despite their impending doom, Martin opened the temple doors. He peered warily into the main hall, glanced left and right, then visibly relaxed upon finding it empty. "It doesn't matter; Jauffre's not here. Perhaps he's still sleeping, it is rather early..." The Imperial shook his head helplessly. "I don't think it would be wise to wake him, considering the circumstances."

"O-oh, good. We're actually having some good luck for once." With a sigh of relief, Pente sank down onto one of the wooden benches, rubbing her shoulders. "I'm so tired..."

"Yeah," Baurus yawned, joining her on the bench. "Running for hours to escape from a gang of angry... _things_ will do that."

"It wasn't my fault," Pente mumbled, scuffing her boots against the floor. "If you're too rough with the creatures you're bossing around, they get a bit..."

"Annoyed? Angry? Rabidly murderous?"

"That last one," nodded Pente. "A b-bit like Jauffre's going to be when he –"

She was cut off by the sound of a door opening and a shrill, keening squeal. "Ohhhh! Penny! Penny, _my baby!"_ A red-headed blur rushed towards the Bosmer and crashed into her, hugging tightly. "Oh, darling, you're back! Martykins, too! Gosh, Jauffrekins will be so excited, you have _no idea_ how much you made us worry..." Aranwen gushed breathlessly.

"Hello Aranwen," Baurus said pointedly, his voice falsely cheerful. Aranwen reacted with mild surprise, apparently genuinely unaware of his presence.

"Oh, you too, darling." She enveloped Pente in an even tighter hug before pulling away, her mouth suddenly twisted in an expression of motherly disapproval. "But _what_ are you wearing, sweetie? This dirty old helmet doesn't look very ladylike. Honestly, I know it's important to be protected, but you can at least try to be a little more stylish about it."

"Um," Pente squeaked, utterly overwhelmed. "Um, I w-was, uh..."

Aranwen wasn't listening. "Oh, Jauffre," she cooed, turning back towards the door. "Come and see! Look who it is, sweetie! Isn't this marvellous?"

Standing transfixed in the doorway, Jauffre emitted an odd little gurgling noise as his eyes fell upon the three worn-out figures. The ensuing silence was not a comfortable one. Martin let out a tiny, quiet little half-cough as he tried not to squirm under the Breton's intense stare.

"Jauffre's going to_ kill _him," Baurus whispered, nudging Pente. "By Talos, his face really _ is_ purple."

Martin took a deep breath. Well, he'd been aware that this wasn't going to be pleasant. Best to just get it over and done with. "Ah, hello, Jauffre."

"_You_..." Jauffre said hoarsely. "You..."

"I'm really sorry," Martin hurriedly apologised, feeling very much like a small child being scolded. "While I must reiterate that my intentions were good, I can't apologise enough for the way I went about things. I should have been more responsible and..." the Imperial's face coloured slightly. "...And not locked you in a cupboard under, ah, false pretences. I really am _incredibly_ sorry."

"But don't be mad!" Pente piped up. "W-we couldn't have done it without Martin! We had to fight ghosts and liches and all kinds of stuff that Baurus and I couldn't have killed by ourselves!"

"Liches?" Jauffre croaked, looking rather ill. Pente babbled on regardless.

"Yeah! G-gosh, those things are horrible. Oh, and all the things he knew about Ayleid ruins got us out of a lot of t-trouble, too. If it wasn't for Martin knowing all about the different deathtraps –"

_"Deathtraps?"  
_

"Uh-huh." Pente couldn't help but wonder why Jauffre was interrupting so much - it was so _rude!_ "If he didn't know about those then we'd never have been able to kill all those Mythic Dawn members that were gathered there. So it's g-good that he came, and, um..." she went very quiet as she noticed that Jauffre looked rather like he was torn between collapsing and horribly murdering everyone in the room. "...And, um, stuff."

_"Mythic Dawn?"_ the Breton whispered, his voice wavering weakly. "They were... and you..."

Martin nervously brushed his hair back out of his eyes. "Well, ah, there was a... tiny, insignificant incident involving them. It wasn't anything of particular importance, though, really. No, nothing life-threatening." Horribly aware that he was most certainly not cut out for this lying business, he quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, we successfully retrieved the stone! All's well that ends well."

"And," Pente added brightly, "we got you this." She pulled the horned Elven helmet from her head and presented it to the Breton, blissfully unaware that she was now displaying a particularly horrendous case of hat-hair. "A new helmet to replace the one you lost! Well, um, it's not exactly new as such, but you know what I mean. It's genuine ancient Ayleid... stuff." She screwed up her face slightly in distaste. "It smells a bit like lich, b-but it'll probably be alright if you polish it a bit."

"Ooh, yes, a good polishing session solves most problems," Aranwen cooed, taking the helmet. "Would you like me to shine this up for you, Jauffrekins?"

This only seemed to increase the Grandmaster's level of incoherency. "I... you... but..."

He was spared further comment as the temple doors opened once more, revealing Narina Carvain as she entered the hall. "Good morning, Grandmaster, it's only me. Roliand said it was alright if I just came straight– Oh!" she gasped, stopping dead as her eyes fell upon Martin. "You're back!"

"That would, ah, seem to be the case," Martin replied, a cautious smile spreading across his features. "Good morning."

Narina returned the smile, genuine relief showing on her face. "Indeed. Thank the Nine you're safe! I'm glad to see you looking unharmed, if a little... ruffled. _Rugged_, some might say. I mean, ahm..." she composed herself with a small shake of the head and assumed her sternest expression. "I really can't approve of this kind of behaviour. Running off without a word like that!"

"Sorry," Martin apologised for seemingly the fiftieth time that morning. It was rather difficult to sound contrite while Narina was beaming at him like that, but he tried regardless. "It wasn't my intention to worry anyone."

"I should think not," Narina scoffed, walking towards the Imperial and taking hold of his arm. "Come along, I need to tell you exactly what I think of you! As long as Jauffre doesn't mind, naturally." She glanced back at the Breton, whose mouth was still opening and closing silently. "That's a no? Oh, good. Come on, then!"

As he was pulled from the room, Martin grinned sheepishly at Baurus and Pente. "Ah, you two wouldn't mind just filling Jauffre in on what's happened, would you? My thanks!"

A short silence fell as the doors were closed behind the two Imperials, only being broken by a rather high-pitched giggle coming from the other side of the thick wood. Pente gnawed nervously on her lip and gently touched Aranwen's arm. "Um, m-mother?"

"That _hussy!_ She... Did you _see_ what she just... And you heard..." Apoplectic with rage, Aranwen desperately appealed to Jauffre. "_Do_ something, cuddlekins!"

The Breton, still shellshocked, didn't seem to register her plea. "He's _alright_," he croaked. "Alright. _Safe._" The man's face had drained of its previous purple hue and was now a rather sickly shade of grey. "You know, I... I think I need to go and lie down."

"Oh, poor Jauffywaffy," Aranwen soothed, her anger somewhat mollified in the face of his stricken expression. "You do that, darling, and I'll talk to Penny for you!" She fluttered her fingers at the Breton as he staggered from the hall, then patted Pente on the head. "Anyway, dearest, I'm _so_ glad you're alright! I did worry, you know, sneaking off with little Marty like that. I bet it was all your idea, wasn't it, sweetheart? Anything to be alone with the dishy priest. It looks like I managed to teach you _something_, at any rate!"

"Alone?" Baurus grumbled. "What am I, the trained attack dog?"

"Hm? Oh, of course. Whatever," the mer continued, rolling her eyes dismissively. "Come on then, Penny, what did you get up to? Anything I should know about?" she giggled, winking brashly.

Pente let out a vaguely queasy-sounding squeak. All she wanted was to go off, clean herself up, and sleep forever. _G-great. Once again, I risk my life to save the sodding world, and my reward is to be interrogated by my bloody mother. By Azura, being debriefed by _Jauffre_ is more fun than this–_

Oh, there was that queasy feeling again. _Not like _that!_ U-ugh...  
_

"Nothing," she responded quickly. "N-nothing. B-but, uhm..." Yes - there _had_ been something she'd wanted to ask. Pente flushed and lowered her voice before continuing. "M-mother, did you put... s-some, uhm... _things_ in my b-bag? _Stockingy_ th-things?"

"Oooohh!" Aranwen gasped, prompting further horrified blushes from her daughter. "Oh, I put those there _ages_ ago, dear, just as a precaution. Nothing _sinister_, sweetie. Ooh, does that mean they came in useful, hmm? Oh, I knew Marty could never resist! Darling, you've made your mother _so _ happy–"

"Useful?" Baurus interrupted, assuming his gravest expression. "Those stockings were a blessing for _all_ of us." Pente shot him a look of utmost horror, but received only a quick wink in return. "If you were responsible for those, ma'am, then I personally can't thank you enough."

Aranwen blinked in shock, her gaze flickering between her daughter and the Redguard. "E-eh? I mean... What? Penny? Whatever is he talking about, darling?"

"Really," Baurus continued, the edges of his mouth twitching as he fought to maintain his serious demeanour. "Things got pretty hard out there, and the three of us wouldn't have made it without those. It's a good thing they were so stretchy; I wouldn't have been able to use them otherwise."

Aranwen swallowed, looking vaguely ill. "That's... that's very nice, dear..." After looking Baurus up and down, her skin took on a similar hue to Jauffre's own brand of sickly grey. "Anyway, I m-may just have to go and lie down myself. The relief of having you all back safe, it... it's making me a touch lightheaded."

"I hope you feel better soon," Baurus smiled brightly, as Aranwen shakily made her way towards the door. "I'm sure Martin would like to thank you, too!" As the auburn-haired mer tottered out of sight, he finally allowed his amused grin to surface. Pente stared up at him in a mixture of horror and admiration.

"You're _terrible!_" she gasped, wide-eyed. "B-but in the best possible way."

"All part of my charm," Baurus answered. "Hey, now that nobody else is around, d'you want to go and, uh, _lie down_, too?"

"Oh, okay," Pente smiled obliviously. "I _am_ really tired. Some sleep would do me a world of good right about now!"

Baurus sagged slightly. "But that's not what I..." He shrugged. "But if you're tired, I guess..."

"Eh? What else would you mean?" Pente blinked in a particularly bemused sort of way. "Gods, you're weird sometimes."

* * *

"Oh, _bother!_ Jauffre - I need Jauffre!"

His hair now more ruffled than ever, Martin glanced over at Narina. "Ah, well, good for him. Though I never really thought balding Bretons were your type–"

Rolling her eyes, Narina hurried out of Martin's quarters, smoothing her own hair as she went. "Oh, very amusing. No, I came here to tell him something! And then _you _ were here looking all rumpled and windswept and I got _distracted_. You pick your bloody moments, Martin Septim."

The priest followed her in her pursuit of Jauffre, letting out a good-natured snort. "My apologies. I'll be sure to carry a comb with me at all times in future, in order to avoid such situations."

"Mmm, don't bother," Narina mumbled, distractedly peering into the barracks in case the Grandmaster was in there. "My, being out there _has_ done you good, hasn't it? I think your Redguard friend is rubbing off on you a litt– Ah! _Jauffre_."

"Hello again, Countess. And Martin, of course." Jauffre seemed to have recovered somewhat from his ordeal - while still slightly pale, he no longer had the air of a man on the verge of madness. That was a relief to Martin; he quite thought that the Blades already had more than their fair share of madmen, thankyou very much. "I hope Narina wasn't too hard on you, but we were all exceedingly worried. If you even _think_ about running off like that again, we'll be forced to restrain you in somewhere far more sturdy than a cupboard."

Martin offered a sheepish smile. "Ah, um, sorry about that. Again." Guilt clutched at the Imperial's insides as he noted Jauffre's weak smile in response, and he resigned himself to the fact that he would probably be apologising for this for a _long_ time. "Anyway, ah, Narina wished to speak with you–"

"Yes!" Narina exclaimed, suddenly serious. "Ahem. I thought you'd like to know that your reinforcements have arrived, Grandmaster. Considerable numbers of them, in fact."

"Ah! Really?" Jauffre beamed delightedly. "Marvellous! Such a quick response, too. Baurus and Pente must have done excellent work with all those gates, eh? _Wonderful!"_

"Indeed. The innkeepers seem to be as happy about it as you are, but the town guard is less so." Narina allowed herself a small smile. "Captain Burd in particular was quite vocally opposed to having so many mercenaries in such close proximity to the castle, and he was rather eager to know what you were planning on _doing _with them all..."

Martin looked from Jauffre to Narina and back again. "Excuse me - _what_ reinforcements?"

"For when we trick the enemy into opening their Great Gate, of course," Jauffre explained patiently. "The more protection you have, the better! So while you were away, I took the liberty of sending letters to all the guild halls in Cyrodiil to request aid." The Breton's eyes slid shiftily to one side. "And an extra one to High Chancellor Ocato, asking for the Legion's help. He sent a return message _very_ quickly after I offered to send Aranwen to discuss the situation in person."

"He wasn't fond of the idea? Gosh," Narina murmured, her eyes innocent and wide. "But she's such a nice woman..."

"Indeed. She has her, ah, charms," Jauffre muttered, glancing furtively to one side. "I'm aware that she can seem a little abrasive at times, but she's a very... a very enthusiastic woman, you know–"

"So," Martin blustered, eager to get the conversation as far away from Aranwen's _enthusiastic_ nature as possible, "we have an army in Bruma?"

"Ah! Yes. Well, you and Pente do, really," Jauffre corrected him. "I made the requests in the name of the Septim heir and the Hero of Kvatch, so you will be the ones in command. I thought that would be best, considering your reluctance to let others take charge recently."

"Sorry," Martin responded automatically. Yes - he was _definitely_ going to be apologising for this for years. A horribly vivid image of him as an old man begging forgiveness from Jauffre's ghost entered his mind, and the Imperial resolved to never lock anyone in a cupboard again - no matter _how_ much fun it had been.

Not that it _had_ been fun, of course. He was a mature, refined young man, after all. Definitely.

Jauffre ran a hand across his head, seeming troubled. "No, I was meaning that as a compliment. After all, you'll soon be in a position where you'll _have _ to be a leader. Perhaps it's best that you start now."

"...Oh." Martin scrutinised Jauffre carefully - this was very unlike him. "Then perhaps I should meet this army. People are more likely to fight for someone they can see as opposed to an idea, after all."

Jauffre paused for a moment. "Indeed. You do have a point, there. Especially as we should really go and get them all organised, anyway. We'll follow your lead, Martin."

"Oh." The Imperial found himself at a loss for words again. This was _so_ strange - what had happened to Jauffre, Grandmaster of the Paranoid? "Then, ah, I'll just go and get Pente and we'll... go. Now. Yes." Shooting the Breton one last suspicious glance, Martin walked off in search of the others. Narina gave Jauffre a rather wary look of her own before speaking.

"You've changed your tune, haven't you? Not that I'm criticising you. I think this is a wonderful idea."

"Well, I had a chat with Aranwen after Martin left that convinced me it was best to let people do as they will. Within reason, of course."

Narina's eyebrow raised slightly, her voice betraying her scepticism. "Mmm-hmm."

"Alright, I might also be going a little stir-crazy, myself." Jauffre sheepishly rubbed the top of his head. "Pente and Baurus have no idea how lucky they are, getting to travel so often."

* * *

"I bloody _hate_ having to run around all the time! Couldn't they have done this without us?" griped Pente, seething quietly. "I was h-having a _rest_. It's alright for Jauffre; he gets to be safe at home whenever he wants!"

"Yeah, but he also has to deal with your mother," Baurus muttered. "No offense."

"O-oh, good point. None taken." Pente scuffed her boots lightly in the snow as they made their way towards Bruma with Martin, Jauffre, Narina and Aranwen in tow. The latter wasn't required for their task, of course, but she had blasted Jauffre with one of her very best glares when he had suggested that she stay behind at Cloud Ruler Temple. As a result, she was now trotting alongside the Grandmaster, nattering happily about how _thrilling_ it was going to be meeting all those soldier types, whether it would be possible to do a quick spot of shopping, and _goodness, don't you think Pennykins looks pale?  
_

Pente scowled. Of _course _she was pale; she was covered in bloody _snow._

At least Martin seemed happy enough, if a little uncomfortable encased in the armour of Tiber Septim. He had insisted on wearing it in order to appear more like an Emperor-in-training and less like a priest - it worked, but the ancient cuirass didn't seem to fit him very well. Pente was reminded of her own hand-me-down armour that she had escaped from Kvatch in, and couldn't suppress a little shudder. _At least Martin isn't wearing a s-sodding nightdress under his. Um, I hope.  
_

_...Why do I even _think_ of this stuff?!_

Captain Burd met the little group at the Bruma gates, bowing low as he allowed them access. "Countess! Welcome back! The mercenaries are still present in the square, but we're keeping them under control with no major problems. And... Oh, it's you two. Hello," he added, beaming at Baurus and Pente. "Your arm alright, now? Good, good. And you..." he stared at Martin, his smile vanishing. "Martin, right? The one who got the Countess _drunk_?"

Martin's eyes widened in mortified horror, the Imperial now looking more uncomfortable than ever. Narina narrowed her eyes, flushing with embarrassment. "Nonsense, Captain. Hold your tongue," she scolded, before lowering her voice to a sharp hiss. "I was _not_ drunk."

"My apologies, ma'am. It's just that you don't usually stay up giggling and singing a song about a magical carrot into the early hours of the morning–"

"I said _hold your tongue!"_ snapped Narina. Pente raised a hand.

"O-oh, I know that song! Baurus taught me!"

"Well, ah, anyway," Martin coughed, "Perhaps we should go and meet everyone, as arranged. Ahm, it was a pleasure to meet you, Captain."

Jauffre nodded importantly, his new horned helmet wobbling slightly on his head as he did so. "Indeed. Stick close to me and stay on your guard - you never know where the enemy will hide!"

The town square was full of people, organised into smaller groups that were talking amongst themselves. Burd was correct; the atmosphere was surprisingly calm, with a distinct lack of tension considering that there were so many people from varying backgrounds packed into a relatively small space. The Bruma guards still seemed twitchy - their attention mainly focussed on a couple of Orcs sparring - but that wasn't unusual, considering what _could_ happen if things turned nasty.

Pente really, really didn't want to think too much about _that._

Martin's group attracted some attention as they neared the crowd, but things remained calm until a rather breathy squeal of excitement pierced the hum of noise. "_Ohhh!_ It's you! Miss Pente, over here! Look, everyone, it's the Hero of Kvatch!"

Silence fell as the assembled crowd turned as one to stare at Pente, and she shrunk back to hide behind Baurus. This was _too_ embarrassing! Matters were _not _ helped by Aranwen's proud little sniffles and gasps of "_my ickle Penny"_, either. _Ugh_. "Um, h-hello."

"Hey!" one Imperial called, pointing at Martin. "Then he's the Emperor, right?!" An excited murmur passed through the crowd as their attention shifted, thankfully, from the cowering Bosmer.

"Well, ah," Martin responded, clearing his throat, "not _yet._ But, well, one day... That would be me, yes."

The reaction was immediate, as the crowd surged towards Martin in order to get a better look. Pente and Baurus remained detached from the group as they watched Jauffre squawking at the people, frustratedly urging them to keep their distance. Baurus shrugged. "Popular guy."

"Uh-huh," nodded Pente, still flushed from her moment at the centre of attention. "Um, do you think we could s-sneak away or something? I don't really like –"

"Miss Pente! I'm sorry about that, you probably wanted to introduce _yourself_, didn't you? I just couldn't help it, I got overexcited. You know how it is, I'm a big fan, _very_ big fan," a rather familiar-looking Bosmer panted, shoving his way through the crowd towards her. "Terribly, terribly sorry about that. It's me! You do remember me, don't you? I mean, it's alright if you don't, I just rather hoped..."

"Th-Thaurron," Pente interrupted quickly, unsure of how she was supposed to forget the name of someone who would mistakenly teleport her into the skies above Cheydinhal. No, the mer's name was branded firmly into her mind via the miracle of _trauma_. "From the Anvil Mages Guild."

"Ahh! You see?!" sniffled Thaurron, turning to a rather bored-looking female Orc who had followed him through the crowd. "Didn't I tell you that she had a gift for relating to the common people? She's never too busy to spend time with a devoted fan!" Clearly moved, he patted Pente on the arm. "Speaking of which, me and the chaps back in Anvil were hoping you would lend your approval to our little Hero of Kvatch fan club. We don't have many members, but we're very enthusiastic, you know, we hold meetings every Mondas. It would mean so much, we'd all be so thrilled – Ah! But I'm being awfully rude," he yelped, barely pausing to take a breath. Motioning to his Orcish companion, he beamed more widely than ever. "This is Mazoga! I was just telling her _all_ about you."

The Orc thrust her hand towards Pente's face, and the Bosmer shook it gingerly. "O-oh, um. Hello, Miss Mazoga."

"_Sir_ Mazoga. I'm a knight. That means I'm a _sir_." Mazoga withdrew her hand, smiling in a friendly manner. "People usually bow, but I guess I can let you off."

"Oh, um, no, th-that's alright..." Pente stuttered, bowing quickly. She really wished Baurus would stop giggling; it didn't seem like it would be a good idea to offend Thaurron's friend. "Th-there. But, um, _s-sir_? You're a girl. Woman. _L-lady_?"

"I'm still a knight."

"W-well, of course, it's just that usually... I don't... 'Sir' is u-usually more of a..." she squirmed slightly. "_Sir_ Mazoga. R-right. Got it."

"Good! Thaurron _said_ you were nice," the Orc beamed, shoving Pente good-naturedly and sending her sprawling to the ground. Blinking, she pulled the mer upright by her collar. "Oh... sorry. Anyways, I'm gonna go meet the Emperor... Emperors need knights, right?"

"Yes. Yes they do," Pente spluttered. Mazoga nodded, patted Thaurron absent-mindedly on the head, and wandered off towards Martin, still at the centre of a rather large mob. Thaurron's eyes remained fixed on the Orc as she made her way through the crowds and out of sight.

"Isn't she amazing?" he breathed. "So strong, so independent! She's a lot like you, don't you think, Miss Pente?"

Baurus started giggling again, and Pente gaped in bemusement. "Um, wh-what? I don't... She..."

"No, no, not _physically_," Thaurron continued, shaking his head. "I mean in the way you act, you know - so forceful, so determined. You're both in possession of that indomitable warrior spirit... Just wonderful!" His expression suddenly changed to one of concern. "I say, is your friend alright?"

Baurus had now given up on any attempt at retaining his dignity and was kneeling on the floor, tears of mirth streaming down his face. Shrugging, Pente smiled faintly. "Oh, he's fine. Just a bit weird sometimes, you know h-how it is."

"Yes," Thaurron agreed, punctuating his words with a wise little nod. "_Redguards_. Crazy, the lot of them."

The sound of laughter suddenly ceased, prompting the two Bosmer to look down at Baurus with renewed concern. The Redguard swore heavily and got to his feet, looking around with the air of a man desperate for escape. "Pen, we have to go – _now_."

"E-eh? What? What's happening? Are we in trouble?" she babbled, rooted to the spot in blind panic. "Where's the assassin?! _ Is _there an assassin? N-nine save us, tell me there's not _more_ than o-one!"

"It's worse than assassins– Argh, too late," Baurus cursed. "Gods _damn_ it. He's spotted us."

"H-he?" Pente tugged nervously at the amulet around her neck. "Who's _he?_"

A familiar, booming voice shouted above Pente's panicked little whimpers. "_There_ you are! It is I, old friends! Did you miss me?"

_Oh._ Pente smiled and waved at the big blond Nord. "H-hello, Styrbrand! We should have guessed you'd be here."

"Right," Baurus muttered. "because if anything can go wrong these days, it damn well _does_."

Ignoring Baurus' tone, Styrbrand reached down and ruffled Pente's hair patronisingly. "Well, of course! You know what it's like for an almighty hero. Wherever there is trouble, you will find me! At every great battle, my presence will be counted! Whenever the weak cry out in anguish over the injustices of the world, Styrbrand the Unbelievably Mighty will be there to make it right!"

"You know," Baurus said, his tone forcedly casual, "I hear there's lots of injustice for you to fight in Morrowind. You should go there... Or High Rock, you're always sure of a good fight in that place. I know a_ great _guidebook, if you're interested..."

"Oh, Boris," Styrbrand replied, laughing hollowly as he cracked his knuckles. "Such a joker."

"It's _Baurus_," Pente piped up. "S-silly. You're not very good with names, are you?"

"Not the forgettable ones."

"Don't worry, I understand," Baurus soothed, his smile growing more strained by the second. "It's got to be hard for you to fit _any_ information in that tiny mind of yours–"

A nervous squeak cut off any further argument. "A-ahh, so, um, anyway... L-let's all talk about nice things. Safe things. Lovely. Um, has anyone, uh... R-read any good books, lately?"

Unfortunately, the Bosmer was denied any insight into Styrbrand's literary habits. Before anyone could answer, a terrified scream from over by the city gates captured the group's attention.

"_Oblivion Gates!_ Outside the city walls! Run!"

"The Daedra are coming! Everyone evacuate, Bruma is _doomed!"_

Styrbrand made an odd, surprisingly high-pitched little _squeeing_ noise before running off to have a look for himself. Pente was considerably less pleased. "N-no," she whimpered, her voice merely a strangled, fearful whine. "How? They c-can't, we're not ready! A-aren't we supposed to be ambushing them? _L-later?_ D-do you think they'd go away if we s-stayed really quiet and pretended nobody was here? M-maybe they'd reschedule–"

Her babbling went largely un-noticed as the town square descended into utter pandemonium. Baurus rushed off to view the situation as Styrbrand had done, fighting his way through panicking citizens and soldiers alike, and Pente was left by herself. The air was thick with screams and curses as people rushed around, so the panicked whimpering of a lone Bosmer was easy to miss.

..."And m-maybe the Daedra aren't too bad when you get to kn-know them. If you make the e-effort to be friendly, I mean. We should try that. Just ask them n-nicely if they'd mind coming back later... N-not Clannfear, though, I hate th-those. Are there any _fluffy_ Daedra? I b-bet they'd listen to us, bad things are _never_ fluffy–"

"Pente?" Baurus had returned, and from the look of him, things were _not_ good. "What are you... Agh, never mind. Look, this is bad - there are _two _gates out there. Not too many Daedra yet, but it can't be too long before..." He shut up quickly, noting the look of abject horror on Pente's face. It was probably best _not_ to make her faint before the battle even began. "We need to find Jauffre, find out what to do next. We're going to have to fight, you know."

"I was afraid of th-that. _Bugger_."

It didn't take the pair of them long to find the Grandmaster - it was merely a matter of following the sound of him futilely screeching for order. As the Breton noticed their approach, his expression only grew more harassed. "Ah, you're here - wonderful, it's impossible to find anyone in this chaos - Oh, will everyone _just calm down_?!" he screeched, stamping his foot furiously as he was almost trampled by a fleeing Argonian. "Talos' toenails!"

"Jauffy-Waffy doesn't like not being in control," Aranwen piped up helpfully. "Well, except in more _intimate_ circumstances, teehee–"

"Grandmaster - there are _two_ gates out there," explained Baurus. It was best to cut Aranwen off in these situations before things got _really_ traumatising. "We're not going to have time for much preparation."

"Two gates?" asked Martin. "Then we can assume the Mythic Dawn are making some kind of last stand... There can't be many of them left after Miscarcand. They must be getting desperate... At least we won't have any problems convincing them to open their Great Gate."

Jauffre emitted a tiny moan of distress. "So this is where my careful planning gets me. Surrounded by chaos and flailing idiots."

"A-and that's different to how things are u-usually?"

"Point taken," Jauffre murmured, giving Pente a vaguely amused glance before assuming a more businesslike expression. "Fine. If they're going to open the Great Gate, we have very little choice. Pente can go inside the gate to retrieve the stone–"

"NO!"

Jauffre blinked in bewilderment as Martin, Baurus and Pente all shook their heads vigorously. "There's a problem with that...?"

"I..." Pente whispered. _Time to come clean._ "I c-can't, I... I mean, I'm not–"

"She got injured," interjected Baurus. "In Miscarcand. It's not life-threatening, but she definitely can't fight." The Redguard nudged Pente, silently urging her to hush - it was going to be hard enough to win this battle without losing Jauffre to a heart attack. "Right, Martin?"

"What?!" gasped the Breton. "Why wasn't I informed of this earlier? We've lost our biggest asset on the battlefield and you didn't think it was wise to_ tell _me?!"

Pente raised a shaking hand. "I'm n-not that much of a l-loss. Honestly. Really. Umm, I c-can heal people, if you w-want."

"Oh, that's perfect," Jauffre grumbled. "Just what we need most. A healer. Now all we need is someone insane enough to take your place and go into the bloody gate; I'm sure there are plenty of people who'll–"

"I'll do it," Baurus volunteered, ignoring Pente's squeak of protest. "I've done it before, right? Piece of cake."

Jauffre shook his head. "Not alone. I know you mean well, Baurus, but you're no Pente."

"Damn straight," the Redguard grinned. The smile soon faded. "Ugh... Hang on, I know someone who'd go in there with me. Be right back."

"Where's he... Oh, never mind." Jauffre waved his hand in a dismissive manner that was disturbingly reminiscent of Aranwen's. "No time. Then Pente, you can stay in the rear ranks and act as a medic. Stay out of trouble, please. And Martin..." he glanced wearily at the Imperial. "You're bloody going to insist on fighting, aren't you?"

"You know me so well," Martin answered, smiling faintly. "Can someone escort Narina somewhere safe? Aranwen?"

"I'm busy, dear," Aranwen chirped, fully absorbed in checking Pente for injuries. "You don't _seem_ hurt, sweetie, is it really that bad? Why didn't you let me know you were hurt? Honestly! You should have asked Marty to help you, you know how priests are with that healing touch of theirs–"

"Mmm, yes," Narina agreed, prompting one of the auburn-haired mer's spectacular glares. "Oh, ahem. I can make my own way back to the castle, don't worry about me!"

Jauffre put his fingertips to his temples as he felt the little control he had over the situation slipping away. "Thankyou, Countess Narina. As I was saying, Martin, keep away from the front lines. You're not to take any risks, got it?" Raising his voice, he appealed to the crowd once more. "Everyone! If you could all just listen... _Blast_ it. This is hopeless!"

"Excuse me, terribly sorry to interrupt, but I couldn't help but overhear, you know, erm... Thaurron. Member of the Anvil Mages Guild chapter, founder and maintainer of the official Hero of Kvatch fan club. Very pleased to meet you, honestly, such a pleasure..." Thaurron swooped on Jauffre seemingly from nowhere and shook his hand enthusiastically. "Anyway, allow me to help! Voice amplification spell. I have one. Very effective. Ever been to the Arena? The announcer uses one. It's really very reliable, y'know, it should get everyone's attention. Would you like me to cast it for you?"

"Ah... alright," the Breton spluttered, disengaging his hand from Thaurron's too-tight grip. It never ceased to surprise him that he could still be utterly stunned by Wood Elf insanity, despite spending so much time with two prime examples of it. He coughed at the sensation as Thaurron cast the spell, trying to clear the odd crackling sensation it created in his throat.

"Everyone! If you could all just pay attention..." he winced slightly as the crowds suddenly ceased activity to stare at him - the spell was really _very_ effective, and his voice rang out far louder than he had anticipated. "Ahem, yes, very good. If those of you who are prepared to fight could please assemble outside the city walls..."

Pente jumped slightly as she felt a light touch on her shoulder. "I guess Jauffre has everything covered, huh?"

"Baurus?" she turned to face him, worried by the Redguard's defeated tone. "Are you alr... oh." Taking in the figure next to him, it became apparent exactly why the Redguard was so unhappy. "Styrbrand."

"I'm going in the gate, too!" the Nord enthused, grinning from ear to ear. It honestly looked like he was about to start jumping up and down with glee any second. "Pity you have to miss out, sure, but don't worry! I'll do a great job. I _am_ Styrbrand the Unbelievably Mighty and Really Good At Closing Gates, after all. And after this, who can deny my heroism? Think of it! The glory, the fame, the women..."

"Kill me," Baurus murmured, gritting his teeth. "_Please_."

"Come on!" Jauffre's voice rang out, still magically amplified. He waved towards the trio impatiently, his face a picture of grim determination. "Everyone needs to get out there and get organised! That goes for you, too. There's no time to waste!"

With an enthusiastic whoop and his sword held aloft, Styrbrand tore towards the city gates. Baurus shook his head reluctantly. "_Ass_. Come on, we'd better–"

"Don't!" Pente lunged forward and grasped the Redguard's arm, preventing him from following on after the blonde. "P-please!"

"What?" Genuinely confused, he stood still. "Don't what?"

"Don't go. I-in the gate, I mean. P-please. I don't _want _you to." Horribly aware of how childish she sounded, she tugged harder on Baurus' arm. "I'm s-scared. I know I'm _a-always_ scared, but this is... different."

Realisation dawned on the Redguard, and he gave her a supportive smile. "Don't worry. I might not be there to protect you, but you've been in worse situations than this! You've got an entire army backing you up. You'll be fine, trust me."

"No, no! I'm not scared about that. Um, w-well, I _wasn't._" It was true - being scared for herself simply hadn't occurred to the mer. This was new. "You'll be off on your own doing dangerous things without me, and if something happens–"

"Nothing's going to happen. It's just another gate, right? I'll breeze through, grab the stone and be back before you know it." Baurus flashed his customary grin. "I might even have time to shove Styrbrand into the lava."

With a weak attempt at a return smile, Pente shook her head. "T-try and avoid that. He means well, you know! I think. Sometimes. Just p-promise me that you'll be alright!"

The Redguard placed one hand over his heart and saluted with the other. "I promise that I'll do whatever it takes to get out of there alive, and will sacrifice the Nord only if necessary. Or if he gets really annoying. Better?"

"Always s-so confident," beamed Pente, standing on tip-toe to bestow him with a rather frightened, yet heartfelt kiss. "Good luck–"

"Penny! _NOOOOOOOOO!_"

The two whirled around, only to be confronted with the sight of Aranwen wailing and trying to struggle free of Jauffre's restraining grip. Baurus scratched his head, shrugging guiltily. "Oh. Well, now we're both dead no matter _what _happens in the battle. Almost reassuring, huh?"

"If you say so," Pente mumbled, trying to ignore the awful feeling in her gut. If there was anything that scared her more than the threat of certain doom, it was the wrath of her mother.

Suddenly, Clannfear didn't seem so bad...

* * *

Thanks to Pheonicia for her aid in threatening me into finishing this chapter! While you're waiting for my criminally slow butt to update, I suggest reading her Meh Ayleidon companion piece, "Some Other Benefits Of Hiding". Though be warned - it deserves the M rating, being the unadulterated piece of smut that it is. SO HAWT!11


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